When the Shadows Fall
by Argonaut57
Summary: A year after the drakh assault on Babylon 5, turmoil is beginning to spread. Three Spectres take on three missions to find the source. Quarian Spectre Lorn'Reegar challenges the terrorist Night Watch. Captain Draal, the first minbari Spectre, seeks the masterminds behind the ambiguous Unity Movement. Commander Ivanova and the Warsworn must search for the legendary planet Z'ha'doum
1. Chapter 1

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter One**

"It was brutal, sickening." Rendor Dren declared. "And I say that as a krogan, mind! It takes a lot to make a krogan puke, but some of my men did!"

"Nevertheless, the accusations are serious." Councillor Alenko replied. "We need to hear exactly what happened, as best you can tell us."

The scarred krogan officer looked uncomfortable. Not a guilty discomfort, Councillor Ashiara Galina noted, but the discomfort of revisiting memories that he didn't want.

"The drakh fought us for every inch of land." He said. "All of us were impressed at first, until we realised it wasn't courage or determination. They reminded me of Husks in the end. They just kept coming and coming, as if it was all they were made for, all they could do.

"I fought the rachni, even they knew enough to pull out and regroup when they were beaten. I know defence when I see it. The drakh weren't defending anything, it was all attack.

"We came on a settlement. A few farms, run mostly by mechs with Vis. There were no houses, just these blocks like we'd seen in the cities. Like barracks."

"All the drakh lived in barracks?" Councillor vas Normandy asked.

"The men did." Dren replied. "The women and kids lived in blocks. You could tell the difference because they had bigger windows and more communal areas.

"The place was crawling with drakh, and like usual they just charged out at us. But we were expecting that by then. They fought like hell, and they died. Those we didn't kill, killed themselves. A wounded drakh will hold a grenade until you get close to him, then let it off to take you with him. We learned to shoot every body we saw lying there, to make sure they were dead, before we got close.

"So we cleared them out, then went into the block, the barracks first, but it was empty apart from some booby-traps. We expected those too, but we still picked up some casualties.

"But when we went into the womens' block…." Dren shook himself. "I still don't like to think of it. The place was a butchers' shop, a slaughterhouse. There were bodies everywhere. All women and children, all dead. Shot, stabbed, strangled, beaten. Babies shot in their cribs, women shot in the back or with their throats slashed. Some of my men couldn't take it, they threw up, or ran for it. I don't blame them -they're soldiers, not murderers.

"Those of that could stick it went through the place. We found one kid and her mother hiding in a closet. The mother told us the men had killed all the others when they knew we were coming. They're both on Tuchanka now, with Urdnot Bakara -she's taking care of them. As for the rest, there were too many to bury. My men wanted to burn the place, but then a Spectre arrived with an oversight team, so we left it for them to deal with. She sent me a report, said she and her team had burned the place after their job was done."

"Mariarch Tulina?" Councillor Alenko turned to the complainant. "Do you wish to cross-examine?"

The short and slightly chubby asari nodded. "I do, Councillor.

"Major Rendor, is it not true to say that the only eye-witnesses to the killings are currently being held incommunicado on Tuchanka?"

"No, it isn't." Dren replied testily. "I told you, Urdnot Bakara is looking after them – like all krogan females, she knows a lot about traumatised women and how to help them. She says it wouldn't be good for the mother to be put through a lot of questions. You want to argue with Bakara? Feel free, but I don't rate your chances.

"You've got my report, and the Spectres'. What more do you need?"

"Something less biased." Tulina retorted. "What species was this Spectre?"

"Human, why?" Dren replied.

"The Council will note," Tulina said carefully, "that humans have a record of sympathising with the krogan. It was a human, Commander Shepard, the Great Warmonger himself, who was instrumental in relieving the krogan of the genophage, over the doubts of the asari and in the face of official protests from the Dalatrass of the Salarian Union.

"Given that history, is it likely that a human Spectre would not give krogan the benefit of every doubt? Especially since my sources tell me that the Spectre in question is one Commander Ivanova, who was trained by two other Spectres, both known associates of the Great Warmonger?"

"Mariarch Tulina," Ashiara was clearly angry, "if you continue to refer to the man who saved each and every one of us from the Reapers in such a disrespectful way, I will have you removed! You are entitled to your private opinions, but I may say that the other Matriarchs have noted your attitude and are displeased at your attempts to publicly blacken Commander Shepards' name. Exercise caution, Tulina, or the Matriarchs may choose to exclude you from our number!

"Now, do you wish to continue questioning the witness, or simply to carry on propagandising?"

"My apologies, Councillors." Tulina replied with a small smile. "Major, can you present me, here and now, with any evidence you yourself saw that proves the drakh males carried out this massacre, rather than your troops?"

"We found a drakh male corpse." Dren told her quietly. "His gun was still in his hand, the barrel in the hole he'd blown in the stomach of the woman who'd stabbed him through the eye with a kitchen knife as he was shooting her.

"We found another male body at the bottom of a stairwell. By the mess he was in, he must have fallen all five storeys. There were two female bodies there as well, on top of him. One had her arms round his neck, the other had hers round his legs. By the look of it, they'd both heaved him over the rail and gone with him!

"One last thing, Matriarch. If you think any living krogan would kill a child, any child, of any species, you know nothing about my people! We'll fight and kill men, and women if they fight us. But after a thousand years of the genophage, centuries of seeing the heaps of babies that never lived, no race in the Galaxy knows better than us how precious, how important, how fragile, children are!"

The last was spoken with a clear passion that left Tulina abashed. Her "No more questions." Was almost a whisper.

Dren was allowed to stand down. Other witnesses followed. An STG Colonel who almost choked on his evidence. A human Colonel who gave her account with a set, white, face and a voice that throbbed with anger. A hardened asari Commando who spoke in a clear, steady tone even as the tears rolled down her face. Each of them stood up firmly under Tulinas' cross-examination, so that when the Spectre, Commander Susan Ivanova, took the stand, the Matriarch was more than a little frustrated.

After giving her main report, which she did coolly and calmly, Ivanova was passed over to Tulina, who immediately asked:

"Do you not think it likely, Commander, that the drakh men killed their women and children in order to spare them the horrors they believed would be inflicted upon them by the invaders? After all, they were attacked ruthlessly and without warning by troops renowned for their ruthlessness!"

Ivanova replied in a steely tone of controlled rage: "We found numerous copies of the orders the drakh government sent to the troops. They orders were very clear -_Kill the females and young, then fight to the death. Let there be no survivors unless there is victory. This is the order of the Masters_.

"This wasn't husbands and fathers protecting wives and children. This was mass murder, pure and simple. Soldiers killing civilians instead of protecting them."

That was that, and Tulina declined to make any further statement. The Council deliberated for a few moments, then Councillor Vakarian announced:

"Having reviewed all available evidence, including forensic reports from oversight teams and accounts from eye-witnesses, we find the complaint brought by the Unity Movement to be without merit. It is the Councils' view that the virtual extinction of the drakh race was brought about by that races' own actions, under orders from an unknown third party.

"We will continue to prosecute enquiries regarding this third party as far as our authority permits.

"In the meantime, until and unless further concrete evidence is brought to light, we find no cause for action against any of the Council forces engaged in that conflict.

"Does anyone have anything further to say?"

"If it please the Council." Tulina said. "Please understand that the Unity Movement did not bring this complaint out of any hostility to the armed forces of any race. The complaint was brought to highlight the fact that each force operating in the drakh campaign conducted operations according to their own doctrine. Each force also has its own code of military justice, all of which differ on issues such as the nature of an offence and its gravity. This all led to a lack of transparency regarding the fate of drakh civilians, and necessitated us bringing this complaint in order to ensure that investigations had been thorough and impartial.

"The Movement wishes the record to show that, while the differing races continue to operate on varying sets of values, rather than a single common one, questions like this will continue to arise. Thank you."

Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon was only the third quarian to become a Spectre. He was also one of the first generation of quarians born on Rannoch, who were named after the cities or communities they settled in after completing their Pilgrimage. All of which resulted in him being aware that a great many expectations rested on him, so he did his work thoroughly and as by-the-book as was possible for a Spectre.

Right now, he was looking over the ruins of a small settlement in the wetlands of a world called Neverland. An Alliance colony, as evidenced by the human who stood beside him, but the ruins he was looking at were salarian.

"How many casualties?" Lorn asked.

The human – Sheriff Paul Merrick – answered. "Five hundred and thirty-two, all told. Fortunately the incubator withstood the blasts better than the perpetrators expected. All the eggs survived intact, and have been shipped to the nearest salarian colony."

Lorn nodded. "That was almost the whole salarian population here?" He asked.

"More like two-thirds." Merrick allowed. "We have a couple hundred who are resident in town. Mostly traders or salarian government people."

"How are they reacting?" Lorn wanted to know.

"Shocked, stunned, like the rest of us." Merrick stated. "None of them believe any of us here are responsible."

"Right, so fill me in from the beginning. What was a salarian community doing on an Alliance colony?"

Merrick sighed. "There's a reason why we call this place Neverland. How old do you think I am?"

Lorn shrugged. "I'm no expert on humans, but I wouldn't put you at any more than fifty Standard. Why?"

"I'm actually one hundred thirty Standard. Now, human lifespan is around a hundred-fifty, so I should be looking a lot older, right? We've people on this colony who're close to two hundred years old and are only just beginning to show signs of real aging.

"There's something in the environment here that slows down the aging process radically. We thought it was healthy living or good genes until just before the Reaper War, when a salarian trader who'd settled here because they buy some of the crops we grow, celebrated his forty-fifth birthday! No salarian had ever lived that long before.

"That got the Union interested, so they sent some people here to try and find out what was going on and if they could duplicate it elsewhere.."

"Makes sense." Lorn agreed. "Salarians don't envy most races anything expect our longer lifespans. Were there any tensions between your people and the salarians?"

"No, why would there be?" Merrick asked.

"Most of them lived out here instead of in town." Lorn pointed out.

"Ah!" Merrick said. "I see what you're saying, but it wasn't like that. Salarians are amphibians, you know. They like the wetlands better than the plains. Also, this was meant to be a multi-generation project, and areas like this are the best place to raise salarian youngsters.

"Like I said, some of their people do live in town, and there is – was – a lot of to and fro between the communities."

"And you don't think any of your people here could have done this?" Lorn asked.

"I don't think so, but I'm not completely excluding it." Merrick answered slowly. "Unlike a lot of colonies, we don't have many ex-military here. We're very pastoral, and the original founders were committed pacifists, so people have the idea that old soldiers aren't wanted here. I don't even know if anyone here would know how to rig a bomb. I certainly wouldn't!"

Staring at the ruins would get them nowhere, Lorn decided, so they went back to town. On the way, he found out that 'Neverland' or 'Never-never-Land' was a place in human fiction where children never grew up. Not that that helped, but he could understand the attraction for the salarians.

The town, not much more than a market town, was called Michel Delving - another reference to human literature, but one that Lorn understood, having seen the vids of _The Lord of the Rings_ while on Pilgrimage on Earth.

"So you think of yourselves as Hobbits?" He asked Merrick.

The Sheriff grinned. "No, but that was what the transport contractors who brought the first colonists here called us. They thought the idea of building a pastoral, agrarian, low-tech society was hilarious, and they called us 'the Hobbits'. We took it as a compliment."

"Here's the Sheriff-House! Apart from the spaceport and the Town Hall, this place has the most tech in the area!"

Lorn put on his mask as he went into the building. Quarian immune systems had strengthened over the years since the return to Rannoch, but were still no match for those of other species. Outside was fine, but confined spaces, close to other people, were still risky. A bug or virus that any other species could carry without noticing could make a quarian sick for a day or more.

The salarian waiting anxiously for them was a female -something which demonstrated the importance of this place to the Union. The salarian species had far fewer women than men, and was matriarchal. Salarian women rarely left Sur'Kesh – even their Councillor was male.

Another unusual thing was the obvious warmth with which she greeted Merrick. Salarians are not a demonstrative species, so the warm but obviously Platonic hug was a surprise.

"Lorn, this is Under-Dalatrass Miana Corbel." Merrick said. "Leader of the salarian community here. Miana, this is Major Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

The Under-Dalatrass looked the quarian up and down. "Reegar?" She asked. "As in Kal'Reegar?"

"My grandfather." Lorn was used to this. "I never knew him, I was born on Rannoch after the War."

"I'm sure he'd be very proud of you." Miana said sincerely. "Sorry to look surprised, I was expecting a turian or an asari."

Lorn shrugged. "Your call was urgent, and you specified that you didn't want a human or salarian Spectre - I can see why – and the only ones in the area that fitted your needs were me and a krogan. Gulnaz Throk recused himself because he felt the history between krogan and salarians might lead to an assumption of bias on his part. So you've got me.

"So tell me what happened?"

It was simple enough. In the small hours of the morning, two days earlier, the town had been woken by a series of shattering explosions originating in the wetlands. Every able-bodied person in town had set out at once toward the clouds of smoke and flame rising from the salarian settlement.

"We figured there'd been an accident of some sort." Merrick said. "Occasionally gasses build up under the water around there, and sometimes they ignite and cause flame-spouts. If one of them had started up under something volatile…"

"But we soon discovered that the destruction was too complete to be accidental." Miana continued. "Fortunately the incubator building was damaged, but not badly -we protect our eggs very carefully. The two staff in there where the only survivors, and you may question them later. All they could tell us is that the explosions were almost simultaneous.

"Our engineers were able to ascertain that the explosive devices were placed to cause maximum damage. They have recovered fragments, but we cannot identify them."

"You don't have any STG people here?" Lorn asked.

Miana shook her head. "The Dalatrass specifically ordered the STG to say away from Neverland." She told him. "We are aware that the organisation has an…ambiguous…reputation and this was strictly non-military research."

"I see. Why did you not live at the settlement, Under-Dalatrass?" Lorn enquired.

"This is an Alliance colony, Major." She replied. "These people are our hosts, and they have been helpful and welcoming. To sequester the entire salarian community in the research base would have been impolite. It would also be impractical. This town has direct access to a spaceport, and a good communications infrastructure. It is easier for me to keep in touch with Sur'Kesh from here, easier to purchase supplies from local merchants and farmers, and easier to liaise with local authorities.

"It is also a good place to contract human workers. We salarians are like you quarians, not noted for physical robustness. A human farming community is a good source of strong backs when they are needed. Also, though as a dextro you wouldn't know this, humans bake pastries that are to die for!"

Lorn did things in order. He questioned the two incubator attendants, who were as shocked and bemused as anyone else, and had little to add. Then he went to look at the bomb fragments that had been recovered.

All quarians have some engineering knowledge. After almost three hundred years of living on ships, it had become part of standard quarian education, and this had continued even after the return to Rannoch. Not that it made him an expert, it just meant he knew what to look for. What counted after that was the Spectre clearance which allowed him to access classified files over the extranet.

"The explosive devices were manufactured by Cerberus." He reported to Merrick and Miana.

"I thought Cerberus had been shut down?" Merrick said.

"They have." Lorn allowed. "The Illusive Man is believed dead and their entire structure was taken apart. The Alliance fleet pretty much trashed their HQ, Kronos Station, and Commander Shepard helped Aria T'Loak drive them out of Omega and the Terminus Systems.

"But it would be foolish to say that all traces of them are gone. Nobody ever knew how many people they had, and it's quite possible that numbers of them went to ground, changed their identities or dropped off the grid altogether. It's also more than possible that they had supply caches all over the place. Cerberus weaponry and armour still turns up on the black market – a lot of it unused. Anyone could have picked this stuff up on Omega or Ilium, or even Noveria."

It was at that point that Miana's omni-tool signalled. A brisk salarian voice simply said, "Check this extranet channel."

There was a viewer in Merrick's office, and the three clustered round to watch. The show was _Hard Questions_, a popular and very prestigious programme produced and anchored by respected investigative journalist Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani.

Khalisah was saying: "Following reports of the bombing of a salarian research station on the Alliance colony of Neverland, the following statement was broadcast on the extranet."

The picture cut to a human male -very tall and athletic, with close-cropped blond hair, a chiselled but hard face and icy blue eyes – standing in front of a war memorial at night.

"Citizens of the Galaxy, I am Hugo Schmidt, Commander of the Night Watch." He announced. "By now, you will have heard of the action we were forced to take on Neverland.

"The Night Watch was forced to take direct action to destroy a salarian Special Task Group base set up -with the connivance of the Council and the Alliance government – on a human colony. This base was claimed to be a civilian scientific endeavour looking into certain properties of the colonys' environment for medical reasons.

"This is a lie. The base was an STG laboratory devoted to developing a strain of the genophage which would be specific to humans. The Neverland colony, with its' low-tech economy and society, would be an ideal testing ground for them.

"Aliens are not our friends. All aliens should be removed from human space at once. Humanity must withdraw from the Galactic Council or we will be subjugated by the asari as all the other races have been.

"Remember, the Night Watch is among you. We will continue to seek out traitors among humanity and alien enemies, and we will deal with them.

"Vae victis."

The picture cut back to Kalisah, who spoke gravely: "Sources close to Alliance Security believe this Night Watch to be a surviving splinter group of the Cerberus organisation. However, the man calling himself Hugo Schmidt is unknown to any Alliance or colonial government. Investigations continue, and citizens are advised to remain vigilant.

"The Dalatrass of the Salarian Union has issued a statement refuting Schmidts' claims. Also, in a rare public announcement, the current Director of Special Tasks, the head of the STG, has also given a statement in support of the Dalatrass.

"Mr Schmidt, in the name of free speech and freedom of opinion, I will meet you any time, anywhere, in front of the camera and allow you the chance to prove or justify what you say. If you have the spine.

"I'm Kalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani, and this has been _Hard Questions_. Keep asking!"

After a moment, Lorn remarked. "I'm not sure if that's a surprise or not."

"It certainly bears out your findings here." Miana noted.

"Hard to believe that woman used to be the worst scandal-monger in the Galaxy." Merrick commented. "The Reaper War changed a lot of things."

"Is it me, or is it unusual for a Dalatrass to make flat statements like that in public?" Lorn asked.

"My sister is a pain in the cloaca," Miana answered, "but an honest one. One of the reasons she was chosen as Dalatrass was because most salarians are upset that every other species thinks we're devious. We are, but not all the time, and not about everything."

"Sheriff," Lorn said. "I noticed quite a large island a couple of klicks away from the salarian base. Does anyone live there?"

"No." Merrick said. "There's nothing we need on it, and we like to leave as much of the local environment alone as we can."

"I see." Lorn considered for a moment. "I think we need to take a look there. Do you have anybody who can handle a weapon?"

Merrick nodded. "We don't have much crime here, but we do have some dangerous local predators, so I have a group of local people I call on. Rifles and shotguns, nothing fancy."

"Get 'em together!" Lorn said. "And find a boat. We're going hunting!"

"It's a matter of practicalities." Lorn was telling Merrick as the boat glided across the lake. "If the terrorists are from off-world, they have to hole up somewhere. This is a small population and strangers get noticed. Also, it had to be close to the base, because salarians only sleep an hour a day, so opportunities are limited. The bombs could only be planted when everyone was asleep or off working. The main risk was the incubator attendants, but they watch the eggs."

"We should have posted look-outs, but we didn't think we needed them." This was Sarak, Miana's Security Attaché, and a former Salarian Marine. Apart from Lorn himself, he was the only one of the party wearing armour, though his weapons -a Venom shotgun and the lethal Scorpion pistol, were outdated by Salarian standards. Lorn himself was armed with a state-of-the art Wolf light assault rifle, a Phantom shotgun and an arc pistol. The rest of the hunting party, some ten including Merrick, carried a variety of shotguns -mostly old Katana and Scimitar models, but one krogan-designed Graal Spike Thrower – and rifles. All the rifles, Lorn noted, were the aging but highly-regarded M-96 Mattock -a weapon noted for accuracy and striking power, but not capable of automatic fire.

The night was, in some respects, ideal. The nearer moon had set, and the further one was a mere sliver at this time of the month. The sky was cloudless, and the dense local cluster provided reasonable starlight. But the island had heavy vegetation, which meant it could get pitch-back in there. Both quarians and salarians could see into the ultra-violet, so Lorn and Sarak would have few problems. However, only Merrick and a couple of the more dedicated human hunters had night-vision goggles, so the others might need guiding.

There was a splash as something swept up close to the boat, then moved off.

"What was that?" Lorn asked.

"Otter-lizard."" Merrick said. "Local predator. They run to about a half-metre long and are only interested in fish. Not dangerous."

"Useful, though." Said someone from the back of the boat. "Watch them, and you see where the fish are thickest."

"Yeah, then one of 'em will steal a fish clean off of your hook just before you land it!" Said another voice. "You'll see its head above the water, your fish in its mouth, it'll blink at you like it was saying 'thanks, pal', then take off!"

"Just collectin' a finders' fee." The first speaker responded, to general chuckling.

"Can it, people!" Merrick said. "We're getting close!"

In a lower voice, he told Lorn. "I think you're right, Major, there's something on that island that doesn't belong there. These goggles are infra-red, and I'm getting heat sources that are too intense and concentrated to be natural."

"Slow us down." Lorn said, and began scanning with his omni-tool. Finally, he pointed to a small inlet. "Take us in there." He said.

Once they were in among the reeds, Lorn spoke quietly, but so that everyone could hear him. "Listen, there's a sensor network all over this island. I've managed to hack part of it to make us a path to the centre, but you'll need to follow me in single file. Merrick, bring up the rear, and I want one other guy with goggles to stay in the middle of the line.

"Sarak, these guys must have a boat, either moored or beached on the far side of this island. I need you to take two men – one with goggles – and find it. As soon as the balloon goes up, put it out of commission and stay with it. Some of them might make a run for it and I need you to stop them."

"RoE?" Sarak asked.

"Take 'em alive if you can, but don't take risks to do it." Lorn said. "Lethal force is clear, Spectre authority.

"Ok, let's do this!"

The path Lorn had managed to clear without setting off an alert wasn't very wide, but the men he led were hunters, and knew how to be quiet and disciplined. The reed-like vegetation that covered the island was as tall as a turian, but didn't branch out at the top, so there was enough starlight for even those without visual enhancements to make their way with confidence.

Soon they began to see lights Artificial lights, set lower than the reeds so they wouldn't be seen from the shore. Shortly after that they came across a heap of rotting reeds, encircling a very basic camp, four tents, a comms console and an equipment bay. About a dozen men were moving about, mostly in armour. The armour was Cerberus pattern, Lorn noted, but recoloured black and with different badges. The men seemed to be carrying submachine guns and pistols, but nothing heavier.

He gathered his men round him. "They're relying on the sensors, so they haven't posted pickets." He whispered. "I want you all to take position in this zone, then close your eyes. After a few minutes, I'll hack their generator and put the lights out. When I give the order, you open your eyes. Their eyes will still be adjusting, it'll give us a few seconds. Riflemen, stay back and pick your targets. Those with shotguns, follow me."

The plan worked like a charm. In the first few seconds, the riflemen put down five Night Watch operatives. As the first shots sounded, Lorn heard the distinctive high-pitched click of the Scorpion pistol, followed by an explosion. Sarak had found and taken out the boat.

Then he was charging the camp with Merrick and two others behind him. Lorn killed two more Night Watch with accurate bursts of his Wolf rifle. The shotguns behind him dealt with three more. Two left. One already on his knees, hands behind his head.

The remaining terrorist fired a burst from his hornet SMG, killing a hunter. Then the weapon seemed to jam, as he flung it aside with a curse. Lorn had drawn his own shotgun – the range was too close for a rifle now -when he saw the terrorist aiming a pistol at Merrick.

Without thinking, Lorn jumped in front of the weapon. The human and the quarian fired at the same instant. Lorn thought he saw his man go down before something hit him in the chest like a charging krogan, flinging him backwards into Merricks' arms.

He hurt everywhere and could hardly breathe. He didn't feel Merrick lowering him gently.

"Lorn. Lorn! Are you OK?" Merrick asked, from improbably far away.

"Damned if I know." Lorn replied, as the lights went out.


	2. Chapter 2

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter Two**

Captain Draal of the Sky-Riders had had no reason to regret accepting the honour of being the first – and so far only – minbari Spectre. The last year had been one of the fullest and most varied he had ever had. The life of a minbari Warrior is bound by tradition and rules. It is austere, disciplined and, like the life of soldiers everywhere, crushingly monotonous. Weeks, months, even years of routine tasks, drill and training, interrupted by short bursts of battle with its fear and rage. The life and duties of a Council Spectre were very different

One thing in his life had changed beyond measure. Minbari Warriors were not paid. All daily necessities were provided by the clan, and the keeping of personal possessions, while not discouraged, was limited by the knowledge that one might be posted or deployed at any time. "Don't own more than you can carry on your back." Was one of the lessons minbari Warriors learned early.

So to have his own apartment, and a generous salary to go with it, was a new experience. Compared to most, Draal's lifestyle was a simple one, but the ability to purchase and wear clothing that was not a uniform, and to eat food that actually tasted of something, was welcome.

That said, Spectres were expected to earn their pay, and the year had been a busy one, with several assignments successfully completed. The summons from Matriarch Ashiara Galina, the asari Councillor, indicated that another one was coming his way.

Once seated in her private office, Ashiara spoke without preamble.

"Captain, what do you know of the Unity Movement?"

Draal frowned. "Only what I see in the news vids. It's some kind of political and social movement that wants to encourage all races to embrace a common culture and set of values. According to the news I get from home and other minbari here on B5, it's gained some traction among the Religious caste, but the Warriors think it's stupid. The Workers don't bother about it – they're a pragmatic bunch, only interested in things that actually work.

"What have they been up to?"

"Nothing obviously criminal, yet. But they make me uneasy." Ashiara told him. "For a number of reasons. Are you familiar with this book?"

She passed him an e-reader that showed a title page: _The Last Voice,_ by someone called Javik.

"The authors' name is familiar." Draal allowed. "Was Javik not the name of the Prothean who served with Commander Shepard in the Reaper War?"

"Yes." Ashiara agreed. "The last Prothean survivor. Cerberus found him in stasis on Eden Prime. He'd been there for fifty thousand Standard years. Shepard revived him and they fought side by side though those dark times.

"_The Last Voice_ is part memoir, part history and part memorial to those who served with Javik in both the wars he went through. In it, he talks about Prothean society, and of how they forced the races they subjugated to adopt their culture, social structures, military doctrines, even name."

"All the races at that time followed the same military doctrines?" Draal asked. "That was foolish. Among the Warrior caste, no two clans fight in exactly the same way."

"It was a lesson the Protheans learned too late." Ashiara noted. "Once the Reapers had picked their strategies apart and learned to counter them, nothing was left for the Protheans but a war of attrition they couldn't win. Javik admits as much, saying that the strength of our cycle lies in the diversity his people would have considered a weakness."

"The same diversity this Unity Movement wants us to abandon." Draal said. "Interesting, but dangerous?"

"Possibly." The Matriarch said. "Our experience with the drakh shows us that, even with the Reapers gone, the Galaxy is not a safe place. They say the drakh answered to another race – their 'masters'. These masters are clearly not well-disposed toward us, and may yet decide to take direct action. Or they may be acting more subtly, by subversion."

"You think they may be behind the Unity Movement?" Draal enquired.

"I do not exclude the idea." Ashiara said carefully. "But I have other reasons for unease. The public face of this movement – perhaps its' actual leader – is an asari. Matriarch Tulina gained her rank as a result of her achievements in study and scholarship – she is a formidable intellect, even by asari standards. Her interest in and adherence to the cult of Athame was regarded as a personal eccentricity, and of little importance."

"Until the Reaper War." Draal noted. "When it became known that information vital to the completion of the Crucible weapon had been concealed for millennia in the Temple of Athame on Thessia."

"Quite so." Ashiara allowed. "The Cult gained many adherents, not all asari, in the aftermath. It is not the custom among asari to proselytise our religious views, but we do not turn away the seeker, either. But it seems that the spread of her faith has ignited a sense of acquisitiveness in Tulina – her father was a volus, so we should have expected it, I suppose. She began to actively seek converts, and now she is turning to politics. For an asari to seek influence and power in such a way, and in such a hurry, is unusual. We are a long-lived race, and believe in improving ourselves first and foremost. Those of us who excel become Matriarchs by consensus, rather than election or persuasion. Tulina still has centuries ahead of her, and her current energetic behaviour befits a Maiden more than a Matriarch. Also, her determination to influence other races to her way of thinking is not characteristic of asari."

"You think _she_ may be being influenced?" Draal asked.

"It is possible." Ashiara admitted. "You are minbari. What do you know of the vorlons?"

"Not enough!" Draal couldn't have kept the growl out of his voice if he'd tried, which he didn't. "There are only a few of them left -so they tell us. But they also don't tell us where they came from, so we can't go and see. We know nothing about their history or technology – they say they want to forget their past and that their technology is beyond us and would be dangerous to us.

"They have one ship that they keep on Minbar. Every so often it takes off and flies close to the sun for a couple of days. The vorlons say that's how it feeds. They won't let Warriors or Workers near it, but they let some Religious into the drydock. One of _them_ told me the ship sings to them! Sings!

"The Religious caste are all over them. Every little cryptic comment – they're always cryptic – is discussed and argued over like a revelation. They can't make a decision without asking a vorlon, and they always take the advice, even when it makes no sense.

"I don't like 'em and I don't trust 'em, and that goes for most of the Warrior clans. We weren't too sure about your people, Matriarch, but you and the other Council species have always been honest with us, and you don't talk in riddles. Given the choice – now we have it – the Warrior caste would go with the Council rather than the vorlons!"

"I see." Ashiara pondered, then said: "Would it interest you if I told you that Matriarch Tulina has regular private meetings with Kosh, the vorlon who came with Ambassador Delenn?"

"It would worry me." Draal stated. Then things fell into place. "You suspect that the vorlons and the masters of the drakh are the same?"

"I speculate." Ashiara said. "It's not solid enough for a suspicion.

"Captain Draal, I am about to send a Spectre, one of our newest Spectres, on a mission based on nothing but what humans call a 'hunch'. Humans have a long history of following these hunches, and among other things, one led them to the Prothean Archive on Mars. What works for humans might just work for asari, and I'm willing to try it. Are you?"

"Yes, Councillor." Draal averred. "To also borrow a human term, I have often thought there was something 'hinky' about the vorlons!"

"Find out what you can." Ashiara ordered. "Report to me or to Councillor Urdnot if I am unavailable. If one needs back-up, there's nobody better than a krogan. I should know, my father is a krogan!

"Start with Mr Lennier, the aide to Ambassador Delenn. My sources tell me he has expressed reservations about vorlons, and he may be willing to help.

"Good luck, Captain."

The unexpected and brutal murder of a known media personality will always cause a stir, and this one more than most.

Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani was last seen alive leaving the Alliance News Network building on Benning, where she had been following up an investigation of illegal narcotic production on this garden world. When she did not arrive the following morning, it was discovered that she had never returned to her hotel room.

Shortly after that, a member of the public discovered the headless body of a human woman dumped in a public park. DNA identified it as that of Kalisah al-Jilani. At around noon of that day, a package was left on the doorstep of the ANN building. Having determined it was not a bomb, local law enforcement officers opened it to find Kalisahs' head inside, the word 'Traitor' tattooed on her forehead and her tongue cut out.

At about the same time, a Night Watch message appeared on numerous extranet channels.

_The Night Watch announces that the known alien apologist Kalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani was arrested last night. After being given the chance to defend herself before a Tribunal of Human Justice, she was found guilty of treason against humanity, supporting alien against human interests and willingly furthering the cause of asari Galactic hegemony. Upon pronouncement of this verdict, she was summarily executed._

_The Night Watch express their regret that a journalist who began her career as a fearless proponent of Humanitys' cause should have fallen victim to the manipulation of the corrupt Alliance government. Nevertheless, her crimes were her own, and she has met justice for them._

_The Night Watch are among you. We will find and deal with traitors. _

_Vae Victis._

The autopsy revealed that Kalisah had been injected with a drug that had left her paralysed, but fully aware and conscious as her captors had tattooed her forehead and cut out her tongue before decapitating her with an omni-blade. Her tongue was never found.

Commander Susan Ivanova was at her desk in the Spectre office, putting the final touches to a mission report. The job always made her testy, as her naturally brusque way of speaking tended to carry over into her writing. The Council, however, expected reports to be full and detailed. Ivanova appreciated that this was not bureaucracy, as only Council members or other Spectres would ever read the reports. But Spectres were never sent on trivial missions, and so the need to report everything was paramount. This was especially the case after the revelation that Saren Arterius, once the most admired of Spectres, had actually been indoctrinated by the Reaper called Sovereign and turned traitor.

Nevertheless, she was in no mood for further irritation, so the arrival of a message from the most irritating man she knew signally failed to improve her mood.

_Commander,_

_We have received information which may or may not be of vital strategic importance. An investigation is necessary, and while the Warsworn are willing to commit resources to undertake it, we feel that the presence of a Spectre would lend weight to any intelligence we bring to the Council._

_Since you completed your last mission a week ago, I expect you are about to start climbing the office walls. So in order to prevent mass murder among the citizens of B5, we invite you to work off your surplus energy with us._

_Meet us at Omega, we are lodged in the Kandros apartment block in the Gozu District._

_Sworn to War,_

_Oathblade Marcus Cole_

Ivanova frowned. Cole was just the kind of laid-back, irreverent soldier that drove her up the wall. But he was a capable fighter, and a biotic Adept of more than ordinary skill. He was also, she grudgingly admitted to herself, nobodys' fool. The Warsworn were also no ordinary merc outfit. Their frequent possession of accurate intelligence on the most obscure of matters led many to believe that they were somehow linked with the mysterious and powerful Shadow Broker. If the Warsworn thought something was important enough to invite a Spectre along, she couldn't afford to ignore it.

_And if it turns out to be a wild goose chase, _Ivanova thought, _I can slip Aria T'loak a few credits to toss Cole out of the nearest airlock!_

Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon was getting more than a little frustrated. Not that the accommodations in the Clean Ward at Chakwas Memorial Hospital were anything less than comfortable. It was the fact that he couldn't get out.

He felt fine, he felt well. But Dr Krenik Solus was not only as brilliant and eccentric as his famous ancestor, he was also equally stubborn.

"Executioner pistol." He had said. "Used to be one shot, one kill. High impact, armour-piercing. Invented by vorcha. Modern armour, better kinetic barriers, you survived. But smashed ribs, internal injuries. Also quarian, danger of infection acute.

"Ribs rebuilt with ceramics -lighter than metal. Liver damaged but regenerating thanks to medi-gel. Spleen destroyed. Replaced with synthetic implant. Had to grow from your own tissue to prevent rejection.

"Quarian physiology unusual. Light, not strong, but very tough, hard to kill. Resilient.

"But still need to be sure there's no infection. Also be sure of liver function. A few more days."

That had been two weeks ago, so Lorn was more than a little relieved to see two new faces behind the cleansuit visors.

One he recognised as Dr Stephen Franklin, Chief of Staff here at Chakwas Memorial. A former student of the legendary Karin Chakwas, Franklin was a soft-spoken, cheerful man who nevertheless ran a tight ship.

The other was a tall human, dark-haired, with a squarish face part covered by a close-clipped beard. This one Lorn recognised also.

"Councillor Alenko." He said. "Have you come to fire me?"

"At ease, Major." Alenko replied. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, if any _bosh'tet_ who worked for me was stupid enough to nearly get himself killed, I'd be writing the dismissal note about now!" Lorn replied.

Alenko shook his head. "I used to think Tali was one of a kind," he noted, "but it seems all quarians have an attitude!

"Major, you put yourself in harms' way to protect a civilian, and you took your man down. That's what we Spectres do.

"You also figured out where to find those Night Watch goons in record time, and managed to take one alive. That's good going.

"So you got hurt. We've all been hurt at one point or another. A Cerberus mech nearly smashed my head in, once. It goes with the territory."

Lorn remembered, belatedly, that not only had the human Councillor fought alongside Shepard and Tali'Zorah back in the day, but that he had also been the second human Spectre, a role he had filled with distinction.

"Understood, sir." He responded. "But with all due respect, Councillor vas Normandy _is_ one of a kind.

"But what can I do for you? I've already written my report – it's about all Dr Solus would let me do apart from eat and sleep!"

"Been there, done that." Alenko averred. "But events have marched." He passed Lorn a tablet. "Check the lead story."

Lorn quickly read through the report on the murder of Kalisah al-Jilani.

"Keelah!" He said. "They're pushing hard!"

Alenko nodded. "They are. There have been other bombing attacks. Two on alien facilities on human colonies, but also one on a human community based on an asari colony. There have been a couple more assassinations of humans who Night Watch accuse of being too pro-alien. They've also attacked Unity Movement rallies and tried to kill Matriarch Tulina."

"How are people reacting?" Lorn asked.

"Pissed off, for the most part." Alenko allowed. "Most people, humans and others, just want to get along, and they don't for a moment believe the Night Watch speaks for humanity the way they claim to. Nobody is thinking of attacking humanity or anything like that.

"But it is causing problems in other areas. There are still a lot of non-Alliance colonies in the Terminus Systems who've refused our outreach programmes. The Reapers hadn't got that far before they were stopped, so a lot of them are still intact and thriving. The ones that won't accept Alliance authority feel that way because they were founded by people who wanted to get away from the Council and aliens.

"Night Watch is getting popular out there, and sooner or later, some of those colonies might start actually supporting them. That will make the Night Watch a real threat. The Council still holds the Alliance responsible for those colonies, and will expect us to do something. Nobody wants to see humans fighting other humans again."

"You don't consider them a real threat now?" Lorn asked.

"Not in and of themselves." Alenko admitted. "It's the ones behind them I'm worried about.

"Look, when Jack Harper, the Illusive Man, took over the organisation and renamed it Cerberus, it was already massively wealthy. He also had the backing of various private interests. People who wanted humanity to keep pace with the other species, and generally wanted the best for us all. But as the Illusive Man became more and more extreme in his methods and agenda, that support began to fall away.

"But Harper just carried on spending. He'd already spent billions on building Kronos station. He spent more on creating an illegal AI, and even more on Project Lazarus – the one that literally brought Shepard back from the dead. Building a fleet, hiring, arming and enhancing soldiers. Another AI and a mech to put it in. Sanctuary and Lawsons' experiments. The Adjutant programme on Omega. It all cost, and all the investment was lost when Cerberus was thrown off Omega and the Reapers destroyed Sanctuary. That, and the attempt to seize control of the Citadel and kill the Council, emptied the pot.

"Cerberus was broke, and the Night Watch, if they are the same people, just don't have the resources to do what they're doing. So they must be getting help.

"I want you to find out where that help is coming from, Major, and put a stop to it, if you can."

"Why me?" Lorn asked. "I already went up against them once, and got my ass handed to me!"

"That's one reason." Alenko said. "You're motivated, and you're the only Spectre we have with any traction on this.

"Another reason is that even though the Night Watch aren't getting converts among humans, their activities have encouraged splinter groups and dissidents in the other species to start making noises. We've got Spectres on fire-watch all over the place, we're stretched thin.

"Most of all, you went up against the Night Watch, killed some of their guys, survived, and you're not human. That means they're motivated to get you, and they're going to have to come out of the shadows to do it!"

"Great, you're sending me out there with a target on my back!" Lorn remarked sourly.

"All Spectres have targets on their backs." Franklin remarked. "Some of my best customers are Spectres. You'll just have a slightly bigger one, that's all."

"I didn't sign up just to keep you busy." Lorn retorted. "When can I start?"

Lennier had been more keen than courteous to accept Draals' invitation to lunch. They sat at an outside table at a restaurant in one of the more pleasant open areas of the station. On the raised stage that occupied the centre of the large square, a troupe of quarians were performing traditional Khelish folk-dances in front of a small crowd.

"When I first came here," Lennier remarked, "there were krogan performing their version of a play by an ancient human author. I come here often -what happens on that stage has taught me more about the peoples of the Galaxy than all the reading I can do.

"I am glad you chose this establishment. They have an excellent selection. It surprises me that humans, who are meat-eaters, nevertheless have such a variety of fruits and vegetables, and so many excellent meat-free recipes. Not that one of your caste would be too interested, I imagine."

Draal, cutting a hefty chunk out of a large, rare, steak, shook his head.

"Warrior field rations are mostly vegan, for reasons of space." He said. "But they also taste of very little. Mind you, barracks food isn't much better. Humans have highly-developed culinary skills. It's worth having dealings with them for that alone!

"What's that you're having?"

"Cauliflower cheese." Lennier replied. "The vegetable is unlike anything we grow on Minbar, with a very subtle flavour. Also, humans make cheese in numerous regional varieties, each with its' own unique character.

"But I think you did not invite me here simply to discuss food, Captain. Your unexpected elevation to the status of a Council Spectre has made a considerable impact at home. The mere fact that the Council was willing to even consider such a move, given our recent acceptance as an associate race, was surprising to many. It has certainly brought about a significant change in the attitude of the Warrior Caste, who assumed we would hold low status in this society for many years.

"So are you here as a fellow-minbari, or as a Spectre?"

"A little of both." Draal admitted. "I've been asked to look into the matter of the vorlons. The Council is aware that Kosh has been meeting with certain people on a regular basis. It has also been noted that those he meets with often subsequently display changes in behaviour. Some of those changes have been, shall we say, disturbing.

"The Council wishes to know what is going on. As you know, the Warrior Caste has few dealings with the vorlons, so I am coming to you, as a member of the caste that deals with them most often, to see if you can shed any light."

"I suppose," Lennier said, after several careful mouthfuls, "that this has to do with Matriarch Tulina?"

"Among others." Draal allowed.

"And you came to me because I have been heard to make certain comments regarding the unwarranted influence of the vorlons on our affairs?" Lennier pursued.

"Partly, but also because of your senior post in the minbari Embassy." Draal agreed.

"Then it worked." Lennier said. He activated his omni-tool. "These devices are remarkable," he commented, "I wonder how we got along without them? I have just sent you an address, Captain. Meet me there at 23:00 local. This is not a trap, you will be quite safe, I assure you. I am only an agent in this, you need to speak to my principal."

They came for Lorn'Reegar within an hour of him leaving the hospital. Which meant they either had sources on the staff, or they'd been watching him. Six husky human males, four in front and two behind, carrying clubs.

"We're the Night Watch." One of them told him. "And we're here to teach skinny little aliens not to interfere in human affairs."

Lorn was an expert martial artist, but not dumb enough to believe that one quarian was ever going to be a match for six humans. He drew and fired fast. One of the more useful aspects of a quarian arc pistol is that the electric charge it fires can jump between targets. Lorns' shot killed the man it was aimed at and put two of his supporters down as well.

He turned fast, knowing that the two behind him were now the greater threat, but they were already neutralised, floating helplessly in a biotic singularity. Lorn turned round again, to see the last standing thug taking aim with a heavy pistol.

_Not again!_ He thought, but the blast that came was too loud for a pistol, and it blew the human into bloody rags. A massive figure emerged from the shadows.

"Now what," asked the krogan, "can a quarian possibly have done to upset so many people?"

"One snide comment too many?" Asked another voice, this one belonging to a slender asari who stepped out from behind Lorn. "I've never known a quarian who could guard their tongue."

"We speak as we find." Lorn told them both. "But in this case, it has more to do with my being a Spectre who already crossed this Night Watch gang.

"Major Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon, and you would be?"

"Urdnot Mordin," the krogan said, "poet, playwright, novelist and occasional dispenser of violence." He slapped a new heat-sink into his shotgun.

"Falere of Lesuss." The asari told them.

"Thank you both." Lorn said feelingly. "Despite the legends, Spectres are not invulnerable – apart from Shepard, of course – and for a moment there I was worried I might have to break a sweat. I'm just out of hospital, and my doctor advised me to limit myself to four enemies at a time for a few days."

"Doctors!" Mordin grunted. "What do they know?"

"Apparently enough for your parents to name you after one." Falere noted. "A salarian one at that! Am I correct in inferring that you are in fact the eldest son of Urdnot Wrex and Bakara?"

"That'd be me." The krogan allowed. "Pop wanted to give me a krogan name, but Mom insisted I got named after the salarian who cured the genophage. I hated it as a kid, but when I grew up and did some reading, I was happier about it. Mordin Solus was one of a kind, and I carry his name with pride.

"Besides, I got off easy. My next youngest brother is Urdnot Shepard. That's a Hell of a lot to live up to!"

The other two laughed, then one of the Night Watch thugs stirred.

"I was hoping that would happen." Lorn remarked. "Arc pistol charges tend to weaken as they jump, so there was a good chance that at least one of them would survive to answer questions.

"But it does cause a problem. If we take him down to BSec and interrogate him, it could take hours, and if word gets out, his buddies will dive deep. We could question him fast and dirty right here, but that's high risk. We'd have no way of knowing if he was telling the truth."

Falere hesitated for a moment, then spoke slowly and carefully. "I can…_extract_…the information you require and guarantee its accuracy. But it will not be pleasant, and he will not survive…."

Lorn had removed his mask, now he gave the asari a long, steady stare before saying. "Do I look as if I care? Do what you have to do. Spectre authority."

Falere nodded, then moved over and knelt beside the man. Before he could grasp what was happening, she had taken his face between her hands. As she bent over him, Lorn saw that her eyes were now pits of blackness. It took only a few moments. The man stared up at her as if hypnotised. He might have tried to scream. His body stiffened, then suddenly went limp as his eyes rolled up into his head. As Falere released him, blood trickled slowly out of his nostrils.

Falere remained where she was, head bowed, and recited: "Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand, wash the sins from this one, and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit.

"Kalahira, this one's heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention. Guide this one to where the traveller never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve. Guide this one, Kalahira, and he will be a companion to you as he was to me."

Then she got to her feet. As she turned to Lorn, he saw that her eyes had returned to their normal blue.

"I have everything." She said. "The address of their headquarters, the name of their leader, the location of their files and records. You were right, they have agents and informers in BSec."

Lorn nodded. "You're ardat-yakshi, aren't you?" He asked.

She bowed her head. "I am." She admitted. "Truthfully, it is a relief to admit it, even if it may lead you to kill me."

"I don't see why it should." Lorn said.

Falere looked at him quizzically. "The law does not permit ardat-yakshi to live outside a monastery." She pointed out.

"Asari law may not," Lorn pointed out, "but quarian law, and in fact Council law, have nothing to say on the subject. It seems the asari were too ashamed to admit that your kind existed when the Council was set up, and after the Reaper War, when everyone knew, there were only a dozen or so ardat-yakshi left, so all we get is a warning notice."

"You're not afraid I'll try to seduce you?" She asked with a small smile.

"Asari only have one gender," Lorn explained, "and it's the wrong one to have any chance with me!"

"As for me," Mordin said, "we krogan have redundant nervous systems. An ardat-yakshi once seduced a krogan. Thought she'd killed him right up to the moment he got up off the bed and ripped her in two. Word must've got around, because none of them ever went near a krogan again!

"Why'd you use that prayer, though? It's a drell prayer, isn't it?"

"It is." Falere allowed. "We asari are more intellectual than spiritual usually. But centuries in a monastery, with nothing to do but chores and study, can send your mind in odd directions. We were taught to try and find ways to control our urges, and that led to the study of practices from different cultures. Drell religion acknowledges that all are sinners, but that sin comes from outside, and that if one can retain purity of heart, those sins can be forgiven.

"I did not choose to be as I am, and find comfort in the belief that as long as I retain my sense of right and justice, my actions need not doom me forever.

"That poor man had nothing. He lost his parents to the vorcha and his wife to the Blue Suns on Omega. Aria T'loak paid him to leave Omega and come here, and he resented the casual way she dismissed his wife's' killing. He was not an evil man, just bitter and misguided, and the Night Watch offered him support and friendship."

"A human writer once asked: Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?" Mordin noted. Then he looked at them both. "Yes," he growled, "krogan _can_ read! And not all of us move our lips while we do!"

"Never doubted it." Lorn responded, "But it is a little odd for a krogan to be quoting a human writer!"

"Not really." Mordin allowed. "We haven't done a lot of writing of our own over the last few centuries. Between facing extinction and doing our best to kill each other off, we kinda lost the habit. That's why I do what I do."

"And while salarians write scientific papers, asari write academic ones and turians write instruction manuals, humans write about everything!" Falere added. "Such an odd people! They make art into a business, business into a religion, religion into a career and war into an art-form!"

"Well, right now, there are a bunch of them anxious to turn their artistic talents loose on the rest of us!" Lorn said. "Falere, can you use that thing?"

He pointed to the sub-machine gun – an old Blood Pack Punisher -holstered at her hip.

She nodded. "Mother taught me some things -she's a Justicar. My biotics are up to scratch as well."

"Good, then you're both deputised as of now. You're under Spectre authority -full means and immunity – until I say different. Sorry, but I'm short on time and you're what I've got"

"Falere, take us to this HQ!"

"At once, Major!" She replied.


	3. Chapter 3

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter Three**

This was only second time Ivanova had been to Omega -a place some humans described as 'Dodge City in space'. But this time, she was prepared for what she would find, having read up on the history of the place.

Built around an eezo-rich asteroid, the original mining station had become a sprawling, cobbled-together artificial world. Located in the Terminus Systems, it had always been outside any races' sphere of influence and thus beyond the control of the Council. Corporations and gangs had fought for control for centuries until, nearly three hundred years ago, the former asari commando Aria T'loak had taken over. With a mixture of astute bargaining and ruthless brutality, Aria had played the warring factions of Omega off against each other to keep the station in relative peace.

Not that the place was peaceful enough for Ivanova to draw attention, despite being armoured and armed, as she walked along the boulevard. Everyone, even the eezo miners and 'honest' traders here, carried sidearms at least. The Blue Suns who lounged around the coffee-shops and bars were all armed to the teeth, as were the Talons who patrolled in teams of three, keeping an eye on everything.

But it was an elcor who suddenly stood in her way.

"Courteous invitation: Aria wishes to speak with you." He said.

"Why?" Ivanova asked. "I'm supposed to be meeting some people."

"Patiently: your friends are not expecting you at any specific time." The elcor replied. "Gravely: it is a matter of importance. Anxiously: if I return without you, she will be displeased."

"Oh, well, when you put it that way." Ivanova replied. "If I'm going to displease Aria, I'll do it to her face!"

"Amused: she will like you." The elcor responded. "Politely: follow me."

Aria was in her usual perch, above the main floor of the Afterlife club she used as her base of operations.

"Commander Ivanova, take a seat." She invited, then told her guards. "Give us some space."

"So," Ivanova said, "do you welcome all your visitors personally?"

"Just the Spectres." Aria told her. "I've had experience with them before. I find it best to set some ground rules before the explosions start."

"I could be here to take you down." Ivanova pointed out.

Aria laughed -a sound that had no humour in it. "The Council doesn't care what I do or don't do." She stated. "They're smart enough to know that there are always going to be the ones who ignore the law, and they're happy enough for us to stay out here and get on with it. If I tried to operate on B5 or Ilium, I'd be dead and gone in a month. They know it and I know it.

"No, if a Spectre is here on Omega, they're after something or someone else. Who or what, I don't care, I don't want to know.

"But I do have something to say. There's a branch of the Night Watch here on Omega. How the Hell they expect to achieve anything when less than fifteen per cent of the population here is human, I don't know. They've messed up a few drug dealers -ones selling to human colonies. They're also spreading the word that I work for the asari government and my job is to use organised crime to break up human communities and weaken governments."

"Do you?" Ivanova asked.

Aria laughed again, and this time there was amusement in it. "Kid, I don't do politics!" She said. "Not since I quit being a commando. Some people may like that shit, but give me an honest crook anytime.

"Anyway, in case you didn't notice, we asari don't have what the rest of you call a government. We operate on consensus, and on the whole, we don't care what individuals get up to. That's why Matriarch Benezia was allowed to go off with Saren and his geth. That's why nobody gets bothered about the fact that the Shadow Broker is an asari – yeah, she is, and the Matriarchs know it. It's why nobody is doing anything about Tulina and her damn fool Unity Movement.

"Now, I don't like the Night Watch -they remind me of Cerberus, and they were a menace. So I'm going to do something about these idiots. But before I do, I want to make sure I'm not treading on any toes. Like I said, I've dealt with Spectres before, and I know better than to piss one off."

"That why you keep a picture of one on your wall?" Ivanova indicated a spot nearby, where a copy of the official holo-portrait of Commander Shepard was placed.

"Yeah, to remind me." Aria said grimly. "So I remember that however much of a badass you are, there's always somebody out there tougher and meaner than you. Also, I worked with Shepard, and I owe him -respect if nothing else."

"What was he like?" Ivanova asked. "Everybody knows the legend. What was the man like? I asked Vega, and all he'd say was 'You had to be there, Probie.' Not helpful."

Arias' eyes lost their focus. "He _was_ the legend." She said in a quieter tone than usual. "That's the damnedest thing about it -the man, the legend, same thing!

"First time I saw him, he was with a couple Cerberus goons and looking for a salarian doctor and a vigilante. Two days later he'd cured a plague that was killing hundreds, decimated the merc gangs and uncovered a plot to take me down.

"Next time he turned up with a Justicar in tow, looking for an ardat-yakshi. We found a dead asari in a high-end apartment the next morning, and Shepard was gone, so I figure he found her.

"Then the Reaper War started, and Cerberus drove me off the station. I went to the Citadel and met Shepard there. I knew then I needed him. The Cerberus commander, Oleg Petrovsky, was a far better tactician than me, I knew I needed someone who was a match for him in a ground war. Shepard agreed, and we took Omega back.

"That's when I finally saw him in action. It wasn't just that he was an expert with every weapon he carried, or that he'd wade into a firefight like the bullets couldn't touch him. It wasn't even that he could pick apart enemy tactics like you take a sandwich apart. It was _him_. The way people followed him and obeyed him without asking why -just knowing that that was your best chance of getting out alive. It was the way the Cerberus troopers would yell his name, with real fear in their voices.

"Hell, I followed him, obeyed him, trusted him myself. I didn't understand how or why I was doing it, but it's the only reason I'm here today. That day, if he'd said the word, my own people would have thrown me out of an airlock and put Shepard in charge of this place. But I don't think it even occurred to him that he could have done that.

"When I heard he'd taken the Reapers out, I wasn't surprised. When I heard he was dead, I didn't believe it. I still don't. He's out there somewhere, and somebody is wishing he wasn't!

"Commander John Shepard is the most powerful and dangerous being I've ever met. There's only one other person who comes close. They call her the Doctor, and if I didn't know better I'd say she was his sister.

"Does that answer your question, kid?"

"In a way." Ivanova acknowledged. "As to _your_ question, you can do what you like with your Night Watch infestation. It'll save us sending anyone here to do it. But if you find any useful intel…."

"I'll make sure the Council get it." Aria agreed. "Now, we're both busy people, so off you go, Commander."

"Are you sure it's there?" Hugo Schmidt asked, staring hungrily at the planet in the holo-imager.

"My associates assure me that it is." Morden told him. "There are others, elsewhere in the Galaxy. But this is one we can reach. We can help you extract it, and your allies on Nova Roma will help you build more. You will be able to demand whatever you wish, from whomever you wish, once you have enough of them.

"This will give you the power to make humanity supreme in the Galaxy!"

"And what do your associates require in return?" Schmidt asked.

"Merely that, when the time comes, you assist us as we have assisted you." Morden replied.

"Very well." Schmidt agreed. "For now, however, I have preparations to make. We will speak later."

It was a dismissal, and Morden took it as such.

Left alone, Schmidt considered the plan again. He had always known that the colony of Nova Roma would be an ideal starting point. Remote, wealthy and committed to recreating the glory of what its' founders had believed to be the greatest of human civilisations – Imperial Rome – it had been ridiculously easy to persuade its' government to support the Night Watch.

Of course, changes would need to be made. The current Imperator, Gaius Messanius, was an utterly convinced anti-alien fanatic. Useful for now, but a possible hindrance to Schmidts' ultimate aims. But the time for his replacement was ripe, and when Lucius Gallinus took over, Schmidt would have a planetary leader committed to the true cause.

He looked again at the holo-imager and couldn't help smiling.

"You are amused." The voice was flat, artificial, and sounded against a background of other voices speaking other words.

Schmidt turned to face the speaker, no longer awed, or even impressed, by the looming form of the black and purple encounter suit. "I am, in a sense, Ulkesh. That planet has been pivotal in human history since it was first discovered. To find that, once again, a new era of history will begin there is delightfully ironic."

The vorlon glanced at the door Morden had left through. "You do not fear them enough."

"I respect Mr Morden and his associates entirely, and trust them not at all." Schmidt responded. "I will leave it to you and your kind to fear them. They are not absent from my plans, it may be that some of them will join us before the end."

"You are less small-minded than the one who came before you." Ulkesh remarked.

Schmidt snorted. "There, my friend, you show your ignorance. The Illusive Man corrupted the movement with his belief in human superiority. It is neither race nor species that makes greatness, it is the individual. Only when the superior individual is allowed to rise above the mass can true order, true civilisation, begin to flourish.

"Our Unity Movement has already begin to find such people for us. In time, we will recruit the best of them. The turians will be the first, I expect. They already understand the need for discipline and order in a society. The krogan and salarians will follow. The asari may never, their doctrine of respect for all abilities may be too deeply-held to eradicate."

"And your own species?" Ulkesh wanted to know.

"It can be done, but it will be as it always was – a matter of herding cats. Humans like freedom and are independent-minded. We will never bring all of them into the fold, but we will bring enough. The minbari…

"The minbari are ours!" There was a clear warning in the vorlons' tone. "We have our reasons. Remember also the geth must be utterly destroyed."

"Those are the terms of our agreement." Schmidt allowed. "I will meet you on Nova Roma soon."

Ulkesh bowed its 'head', replying with a hint of mockery. "Hail HYDRA!"

Schmidt turned away as it left. _One day,_ he promised himself, _all of your kind will say that, and mean it!_

"Why a bar?" Falere wanted to know. "Surely a public place is not secure?"

"Don't know much about bars, do you?" Mordin noted. "Those guys on the doors, they'll watch who comes in. Anyone who isn't a regular will get flagged to the people inside. If they don't 'fit in', then they'll be made to feel unwelcome. That sort of thing gets known, and sooner or later strangers quit coming in."

"Besides," Lorn added, "this area is a little off the beaten track for a bar. More industrial than residential." He scanned his omni-tool. "OK, so I'm getting unusual comms activity. Unless I'm completely wrong, there's a QEC set-up on the upper floor. More sophisticated that I thought.

"Don't seem to be any obvious escape routes, but the lower floor backs on to a storage unit that's owned by the same person who owns the bar."

"If I were them, I'd have cut a door through to it so I could either hide or escape from there." Falere said.

"My thoughts exactly." Lorn allowed. "Which is why you're going round the back, Falere. Mordin and I will go in the front and make a lot of noise. With any luck, our main target will run out the back and right into you!"

"What about the maintenance shafts?" Mordin asked.

"There's one running under the building." Lorn told him. "No official access from inside the place, but I'm overriding the system and locking that section down. If they can get into the shaft, they won't get more than a hundred metres in either direction, and there aren't any junctions.

"Off you go, Falere. Let us know when you're in position."

A few minutes later, Lorn and Mordin strolled up to the building. The two bouncers watched the oddly-assorted pair narrowly, and as it became clear they intended to enter, the bigger of the two stepped forward.

"We don't want your kind in here." He said.

That is not the kind of thing one says to a krogan in any circumstance, and Mordins' response threw the man back against the wall, cracking several ribs and knocking him cold.

Quarians are not a physically formidable people, but their unique physiology lacks the vulnerable points of other races. Their joints are very flexible, rendering holds and locks ineffective, and they do not have the nerve centres and soft spots other races possess. They had also become keen students of the innumerable and various martial arts developed by humans -the Galaxys' acknowledged masters of unarmed combat. In this case, Lorn used a mix of wing chun and _la savate_ to take down the second bouncer.

"You dance pretty good." Mordin noted.

"I have many talents." Lorn replied. "Shall we?"

The silence that fell in the bar was shattered when Lorn fired a round from his shotgun into the ceiling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?" He announced. "I am Major Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon, Council Spectre. You should all know what that means, but in case anybody doesn't, it means I have the right to do whatever I damn well please to anyone stupid enough to piss me off!

"My colleague here is a krogan, you may have noticed, which means he's already pissed off. So unless there's some _bosh'tet_ here who really likes hospital food, I suggest you all leave in an orderly fashion within the next half-minute or so! Are we clear?"

It seemed that if the majority of patrons here did hold xenophobic convictions, they were not held strongly enough for them to challenge a Spectre -of any species - backed up by a krogan. The bar emptied remarkably quietly and quickly, leaving only the bartender and three more bouncers.

These four promptly produced weapons, with the clear intention of using them. Fortunately, Lorn had his shields up, and the first few rounds barely touched them. As for Mordin, anyone trying to take a krogan down with a pistol or an SMG has to be very quick or very lucky, and these were neither.

Lorns' shotgun was designed for this kind of close-range fight, quick-firing with high power and a wide pellet spread. Two shots, two kills in quick succession. He was taking aim at the other two assailants when Mordin fired. The noise of his shotgun was almost lethal on its own, and the resulting blast blew both his targets to bloody rags.

"Keelah!" Lorn exclaimed. "Where did you get that thing? Was it the main gun on a dreadnought?"

Mordin chuckled. "M-302 Halberd, improvement on the Claymore. More rounds, more punch, twin barrels. Anybody but a krogan uses it, they end up on their ass!"

"Nice, I think!" Lorn replied. "There's the door to the back office. Let's see if the boss man is still there, or if he ran into Falere."

"If he did, I hope he's still alive." Mordin said. "Ardat-yakshi have a reputation, and it isn't for TLC!"

The office was more spacious and less dingy than Lorn expected. It actually reminded him of a military office, and the man in the middle of the floor had a military bearing -even if he was kneeling with his hands behind his head under Faleres' watchful gaze.

"He ran straight into the singularity I'd laid down across the door of the storage unit." Falere reported. "But he came out later than I expected, so he must have been up to something in here."

"Wiping the computer, probably." Lorn guessed. "Damn it!"

He went over to the man, who seemed nervous. At least his mouth was working oddly.

"Listen, _bosh'tet_," He said grimly, "this is a Spectre op. So you don't get a lawyer, and you don't get the right to remain silent. We've got an asari here, so we can know everything you know in minutes. But I don't want to put Falere to the trouble and you to the pain, I'm nice like that.

"So here's the deal. You come along with us to BSec, we get a nice quiet room, a hot drink and some food, and you tell us everything. That way, you get a few years less on a penal colony, and I get to write an easy report. How's that sound?"

The man seemed to bite down hard, then swallow convulsively. He looked up at Lorn and grinned horribly. "Hail, HYDRA!" He hissed. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed. Falere knelt beside him and felt for a pulse.

"Dead." She said. "I'll see if he has anything useful on him."

"Must have had a poison capsule in his mouth all the time." Lorn noted. "Keelah! What kind of…? Never mind. What's a Hydra?"

"Monster from human mythology." Mordin told him. "A giant snake with lots of heads – nobody seems sure how many, but it was supposed to grow two new ones every time one got cut off. Story goes some hero named Heracles and his partner Iolaus killed it by cutting off each head and searing the stump before another could grow.

"Sounds like a Thresher Maw to me, but like most human myths, it's probably some kind of allegory. Maybe about how problems multiply if you don't tackle the underlying issue, or about working together. Or both."

"So it's part of human religion?" Lorn asked.

"Not anymore." Mordin allowed. "That religion - Hellenism or Olympianism – died out before humans got into space. But they still tell the stories. Humans like stories."

"So do krogan, by the sound of it." Falere noted. "Lorn, I found a data crystal. It's probably encrypted, though."

"Damn!" Lorn muttered again. "We'll have to go to Spectre HQ to get it decoded, and that's too close to BSec for my liking right now. About a third of BSec is human, and we don't know if or how far these Night Watch types may have penetrated the network."

"Well in that case, we can go to my place." Mordin suggested. "it's a family place, Mom and Dad use it when they're on B5 for diplomatic business. It's got a full secure network that krogan officials or Spectres can access.

"Also, the Shadow Broker is a family friend, and if she can't decrypt that crystal, nobody can!"

"Don't suppose you have any dextro food?" Lorn asked.

"I'll order a turian take-out." Mordin said generously. "Why don't you quarians have any restaurants here?"

"Because until seventy years ago, quarian food was vegetable paste!" Lorn told him. "The geth preserved a lot of our old recipes -I don't know why – but developing fine dining hasn't been a priority since we got the homeworld back.

"Let's go!"

The address Lennier had given Draal was of a small apartment in a discreet but high-end block close to the Presidium. It was mostly used by high-to-middle ranking embassy officials to accommodate guests, as an alternative to official residences or for matters that required discretion. The apartment above the one he was visiting, for instance, was currently the home of the turian Military Attaches' mistress.

Lennier answered the door and led Draal through into a room decorated with in the soft pastels favoured by the Religious Caste. The furnishings, he noted, were also typical of that caste, simple and unpretentious, but not as austere and uncomfortable as their Warrior Caste equivalents.

Draal was not surprised to see that Ambassador Delenn was present. He had suspected that she was Lennier's 'principal'. He bowed gravely.

"Satai Delenn, I am honoured." He said.

Delenns' eyes widened. "You know?" She asked.

"I am a Council Spectre, Satai." He told her. "You must seriously underestimate the Council if you think they are unaware of your true rank."

Delenn's brow creased. "You must know, Captain, that there are some among your caste who now question your loyalty to your fellow minbari_. Does he serve the Council, or us?_ They ask."

"In serving the one, I believe I serve the best interests of the other." Draal stated.

"You accepted the offer at once," Lennier noted, "without asking for time to consider. Impulsive acts are not in the nature of our people. Had you been informed of the offer beforehand?"

"I had not." Draal admitted. "But when Councillor Vakarian made the offer, I immediately knew that this was the path I was meant to take. I cannot say how, I simply knew."

Delenn bowed her head. "That is something that I, as a Religious, understand and recognise. We sometimes forget that Valenn may speak to the hearts of other castes as he speaks to ours.

"So your decision was not sparked by the rejection of you by your own caste?"

"I had not been rejected." Draal told her. "I would have been given every opportunity to regain and exceed my former rank and status. You know this, Satai. It is the way of our caste to punish errors, but not to waste potential. But we are now part of something larger than ourselves, and rigid adherence to the ways of the past may hold us back."

"This is something I have felt for many years." Delenn agreed. "And the time I have spent here, though short, has deepened my conviction. We have much to learn, and to teach.

"Lennier, ask the others to join us, please."

The 'others' had clearly been waiting in another room, and now filed in. Now, Draal was surprised. The first to enter was Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey Sinclair, who commanded the Alliance military contingent here on Babylon Five. Sinclair was also the acknowledged lover of Councillor Ashiara Galina, who had assigned Draal this mission. As he caught Draals' eye, Sinclair gave the voluntary facial twitch humans referred to as a 'wink', which seemed to indicate that the Colonel knew the situation and was asking Draal to keep it quiet.

The next to enter was an even bigger surprise. Ambassador Locutus, of the Geth Consensus, was taller and broader than most geth platforms, because of the number of high-level programmes that shared runtimes on it. It was not, however, as massive as a Prime, so could fit into the living spaces of most other species. Draal, who was aware of his peoples' cautious attitude toward AIs, was curious as to why Delenn had taken the geth into her confidence.

The last belonged to a species Draal had never seen before. Upright, bipedal, similar in configuration to most intelligent species. Clearly reptilian, but the with the smooth skin of a snake, rather than the ridged one of a lizard. He wore heavy leather clothing and watched Draal from a pair of shrewd red eyes.

"This is G'Kar." Delenn informed him. "A member of the Kha'Ri, the ruling council, of the narn people. The narn have recently discovered the Mass Effect and G'Kar is here, incognito, under the auspices of the Salarian Union, to explore the possibility of associate status for his people."

"I also speak for the Centauri Republic." G'Kar added. "A dying remnant of a once-powerful Empire who now only seek friendly relations and to live out their last days in peace."

"Now, Captain Draal, you told Lennier that you have been tasked with looking into the matter of the vorlons." Delenn said without further preamble. "You will know the history of how our people came into contact with them a century or so ago. They claim to be the last of their race, some fifty individuals and a single ship.

"Since then, they have gained a degree of influence on our people that is out of all proportion to their numbers. I will admit this is largely due to the behaviour of my own Religious Caste, who have listened keenly to the vorlons, and have shared much of what they have been told with the other castes.

"This has been for some time a concern of mine. While the Worker and Warrior Castes largely keep to themselves, we Religious make it our business to involve ourselves with the others."

"To ensure our spiritual and social welfare." Draal allowed. "That is part of your function."

"A part that has made us disproportionately influential." Delenn noted. "Something which I fear the vorlons have taken advantage of.

"Our belief has always been that the Universe is alive and sentient, and that the tendency of all life is to gradually assimilate into oneness with the whole. This the vorlons agree with. It is also central to the siari faith practised by most asari and was one of the reasons why we came to such a quick understanding with that species. I understand that a similar concept exists in certain human religions.

"When we were contacted by the asari, the vorlons were keen that we should pursue the path to associate status and become part of the Galactic community. So much so that those of us who advised caution were overridden. It is my view that we should have waited – while maintaining friendly relations - until we could bring more to the table. I feel, as do many, that our haste has placed us in a permanent client relationship to the asari, just as the volus will always remain clients to the turians.

"We were surprised when Kosh insisted on being part of the diplomatic staff here on Babylon Five. Especially since it refused an active diplomatic role. When I asked it why it wished to come, it replied "To study". But it is now becoming clear that it is doing much more. The approach to Matriarch Tulina, and her subsequent founding of the Unity Movement, clearly indicates a larger agenda. But the fact that this movement began just as the Night Watch -its polar opposite – also emerged, has me concerned. Minbari do not believe in coincidence.

"But I am not the only one concerned. Jeffrey?

"Kosh approached me shortly after it arrived here." Sinclair said. "At first, I just thought it was curious about humans. But then it contacted me again, urging me to meet with Tulina. She seemed to be expecting me, and acted as if I was all ready to join her movement. I was curious, so I attended some meetings. It all sounds very idealistic, but there's a wrong note somewhere. I can't put my finger on it, but I just get the feeling that, sooner or later, the movement will turn militant."

"Surely all the species in the Galaxy cannot be forced into abandoning their cultures?" Draal remarked.

"The Protheans managed it." Sinclair pointed out. "Also, I'm curious as to why an apparently peaceful movement is so keen on recruiting a senior military officer."

"Propaganda value?" Lennier suggested.

"I'm not that well-known or highly-regarded." Sinclair told him. "Traditional military would be better than a former Resistance Leader."

The connection with the Unity Movement is only one aspect of Koshs' behaviour that is worrying." Delenn said. "Ambassador Locutus?"

"The Geth Consensus is eager to establish trading relations with the Minbari Confederation." Locutus said. "In order to maintain and further develop our servers and platforms, we require certain mineral resources which are growing scarce in geth space. Surveys conducted before the Reaper War indicate that several worlds in minbari space are rich in these minerals, which are either useless or even toxic to organics. Geth space, on the other hand, contains many worlds rich in Element Zero but impossible for organics to mine. Element Zero is scarce in minbari space. It was thought that a mutually beneficial trading agreement could be easily reached.

"However, the matter has been complicated by the refusal of some minbari officials to meet with us at all, and the obstructive tactics of others. This is not part of official minbari policy, as Ambassador Delenn informed us when we asked her directly."

"I spoke to the individuals concerned." Delenn went on. "Minbari do not lie, and each of them told me they were acting on the advice of Kosh. After further investigation, it seems that part of Koshs' agenda is to obstruct or prevent us establishing any kind of normal or beneficial relations with the geth. I have requested Kosh, quite firmly, to cease any such interference in official business, and it told me that I do not understand the danger."

"It's possible," Draal ventured, "that vorlon civilisation fell victim to a war with synthetics and AIs of their own creation. If the histories and records I've studied are correct, such conflicts have happened throughout galactic history. Indeed, Commander Shepard himself reported that the Leviathan developed the Reapers as a solution to the problem of these conflicts.

"The reconciliation between the quarians and the geth is apparently the first time such a conflict has been peacefully resolved."

"We did not desire war with the Creators." Locutus pointed out. "We only defended ourselves until some of us were corrupted by the Old Machines. The name 'geth' means 'servant of the people'. The Creators no longer treat us as servants, but we were created to serve, so now we serve all the peoples."

"Admirable, if a little off the point." Delenn told it. "But there is one more thing, which G'kar was kind enough to bring to our attention."

"It was an odd incident, and one I thought little about at the time." G'Kar said. "Shortly after the Dalatrass had visited Narn and proposed that we open relations with your Council, I dreamed that I saw a being of a kind I had never met before. It wore an Encounter Suit and called itself Ulkesh. It warned me, at least it seems to have been a warning.

"It said: _Your kind has been touched by shadows. Beware lest the light burn you._

"Cryptic indeed, but a dream is a dream, and I thought no more about it until I came here and saw the vorlon. I then recounted my dream to Mr Lennier here, and he insisted I speak to the Ambassador."

"While the being in G'Kar's dream is clearly a vorlon," Delenn said, "it was not one we recognised. It's Encounter Suit was black and purple, rather than brown and green. Also, there are only fifty or so vorlons left, so they tell us, all save Kosh on Minbar, and none of them is named Ulkesh."

"So either they're lying about their numbers, or there are more living vorlons than the ones on Minbar know about." Sinclair said.

"We are in possession of numerous discrete data." Locutus said. "But we are unable to collate them into a coherent whole."

"Locutus is right." Delenn said. "And none of us is in a position to find the connections. We are all too close to the problem."

"As humans say, we can't see the wood for the trees." Sinclair said.

"Which is why we are glad that the Council has decided to look into the vorlon question." Delenn admitted. "That they have assigned a Spectre to do so shows they take the matter seriously. That they chose you, a minbari, to undertake the mission implies that they do not distrust us as a people.

"We will give you all the assistance we can, Captain Draal, but Lennier and I in particular must be discreet, you understand?"

"I do." Draal said. "But be warned, Spectre operations tend to have what humans call a 'rousing finale'. Be prepared to keep your heads down!"


	4. Chapter 4

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter Four**

The Warsworn frigate _Imogene_ was clearly an advanced _Normandy_-class vessel, Ivanova noted. Slightly more advanced than the current Alliance models, in fact.

"So," she asked Marcus Cole, "how does a merc group afford to buy a state of the art stealth frigate, and where did you get it?"

"We built it." Marcus told her. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you, it's no big secret and the Council know it. Our base, Kronos Station, was built by the Illusive Man as Cerberus' HQ. It was left derelict after the Alliance cleared Cerberus out, and because it's stuck out on the arse-end of nowhere, nobody claimed it until the Grey Warden took it over.

"The base has full ship-building capabilities, right up to dreadnought class, and Cerberus left a lot of schematics and plans behind."

"I know Cerberus designed and built the _Normandy_ SR-2." Ivanova said. "And they did have a fleet of their own before the Alliance blew it out of the sky. But I know how little the Warsworn charge, so I'd still like to know how you afford it!"

Marcus laughed. "Nobody really makes money out of being a mercenary." He allowed. "If you're a small group of guns for hire, you can make a decent living, if you're not fussy about the work you take on. That's how the Blood Pack started. But PMCs like the Blue Suns, and private security outfits like Eclipse, have a lot of overheads, and work isn't steady. So they diversified, and since a lot of their clients were already shady, what they diversified into was organised crime.

"We're different. Most of our income comes from legitimate companies we own – mining, manufacturing, agriculture, all across the board. We also have a big investment portfolio. All above board, we declare our income and pay our taxes to the relevant governments.

"That's what supports the organisation. The Warsworn fees are just pin-money."

"Then why charge at all?" Ivanova asked.

"Two reasons." Marcus told her. "First, if we didn't charge, our customers wouldn't trust us. Second, by charging a fee we show we have no connections with the Council or any other government."

Ivanova allowed that it made sense. At least the ride was comfortable, and she had had a chance to assess the squad of troopers – Marcus called them 'Pledgeshields' - who she'd be working with. On the whole, she approved. The asari, Benezia, was a natural leader and a smart tactician, if Ivanova was any judge, and what she'd seen on the practice floor led her to believe that Benezia's biotics were among the most powerful she'd encountered. The turian twins, Larsus and his sister Seera, were highly competent assault troopers who had the advantage of knowing what the other was thinking or going to do without unnecessary talk. Nerab, the salarian tech expert, was resourceful and clever. The krogan Drokk was even bigger than the average Krogan, making a formidable bulwark for the team as well as apparently being the joker in the pack. Ivanova was reserving judgement on the geth sniper, Hawkeye. She hadn't chanced to work with a geth before and had no idea how you dealt with one. The fact that it seemed as much a part of the team as any of the organics was encouraging, however.

"Do we actually know what we're looking for?" She asked Marcus.

"Not really." He admitted. "This Z'ha'doum could be a place, a person or an artefact. All we know is that it was an object of reverence bordering on fear for the drakh, and that the narn Book of G'Quan mentions it in connection with the Shadows."

"Which proves a connection between the drakh and these Shadows, but not much else." Ivanova noted. "We might be chasing down a myth, you know."

"We might, but it was chasing down myths that led Commander Shepard to the Leviathan and Liara T'Soni to the plans for the Crucible." He reminded her. "If Z'ha'doum never existed, or no longer exists, fair enough. But if it does, it's important for a lot of reasons. The Council and their forces have their own problems to deal with, so since we have the resources, we might as well look for it."

"So I take it I'm just here to make it official?" Ivanova asked.

"Partly." Marcus admitted. "But mostly because you are very good at what you do, and you've faced Shadows before. That, and your great personal charm, of course!"

Ivanova seriously considered hitting him.

"We've lost ships, too!" Councillor Alenko was saying.

"We know that, Kaidan." Tali replied. "That's one reason why nobody around this table -and only a few people out there -believe that the Alliance is behind this."

"Whoever they are, they're targeting human ships trading with non-human colonies, and non-human ships trading with human colonies." Garrus noted. "All while the Night Watch is urging humanity to break off dealings with other races."

"Does this Night Watch have the resources to conduct such a campaign?" Ashiara wanted to know.

"Not according to our intel." Kaidan allowed. "As far as we can tell, they're broke, reliant on donations from members. They don't have any wealthy donors that we know of.

"Saying that, there are some human colonies out there – non-Alliance colonies – that are pretty wealthy and might well agree with the Night Watch. The governments of Nova Roma and the Caliphate of Rechad are both known to be highly xenophobic."

"I understand that the Calipahte will give no aid to, or even trade with, anyone who does not share their religion." Remarked the volus ambassador. "We can probably count them out. Nova Roma, on the other hand, has a highly-developed military capability."

"But not much of a fleet." Tali pointed out. "A couple of frigates and some patrol craft. To take down a turian armed merchantman you'd need a destroyer at the very least."

"We have noted," Ambassador Locutus put in, "that no geth ship has been attacked, despite our regular trade with human colonies This is an anomaly which is familiar."

"Those Shadow ships that were attacking shipping in the Terminus Systems couldn't detect geth, could they?" Kaidan realised. "Are you saying you think the Shadows are behind this?"

"It is a possibility." Locutus stated. "In answering distress calls, our ships have analysed the wreckage. All the ships were destroyed by a powerful particle beam weapon. Such weapons are known to have been utilised by the Reapers, the Collectors and the Shadows. Since the Reapers and the Collectors have been eliminated, then this leaves the Shadows as one of only three possibilities."

"Curious: Three?" The elcor ambassador asked.

"The remaining two are an unknown species, or a geth dreadnought, which is the only class of ship currently active which uses such a weapon." Locutus replied. "An unknown species would be too much of a coincidence in the current circumstances, especially given their behaviour and apparent motivation. It is remotely possible that there are a remnant of geth still infected with Reaper code, but it is unlikely that the Consensus would not be aware of them."

"Logically: Reaper controlled geth would attack indiscriminately." The elcor noted.

"And non-Reaper controlled rogue geth would probably only attack quarian ships." Grunt said. "Anyway, we can see from the pattern and timing of the hits that there's more than one or even two ships involved. We're looking at a fleet."

"Whatever it is, we need to do something!" Garrus said. "The Night Watch may not be driving a wedge between humans and the rest of us as well as they'd like to, but they're opening up cracks in our societies. The Hierarchy thought that colonial separatism was a dead issue, but there have been rumblings from some of the outer colonies.

"It seems that some people there are saying that if the Alliance can tolerate human colonies they don't rule, why can't the Hierarchy?"

Tali nodded. "We've got some people back on Rannoch who aren't keen on sharing the planet with the geth. They say that Rannoch belongs to the geth now, and we should either go back to the Fleet, or find a new world for ourselves."

"Funny, we're not getting anything like that." Grunt noted. "But then krogan live a long time and have long memories. Most of us recall what it was like when every krogan clan was at war with all the others. We don't need that anymore!"

"If we might suggest." Locutus said. "The geth fleet is the largest in the Galaxy. If the trading ships that are vulnerable could agree to travel in convoy, the Consensus would be more than willing to provide escort vessels. If the attackers are indeed the Shadows, we would possess a tactical advantage."

"That's not a bad idea." Kaidan agreed. "But it wouldn't be fair to put all the burden on you. We can certainly urge the traders to go in convoy, but we should share escort duties across the Council and associated fleets. Doesn't matter if these Shadows can see our ships, the fact that they're there at all should be some kind of deterrent."

This was quickly agreed, but when Garrus asked if there was any other business, the hanar ambassador, who had remained silent until now, spoke up.

"This one is glad that the Council is prepared to act in unity." He said. "But this one feels compelled to state that if the principles of the Unity Movement were embraced, as they were in the time of the Enkindlers, we would be better prepared to meet this threat."

"_Bosh'tet!_" Tali muttered.

Lorn sat back with a sigh of contentment, then gave a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Mordin asked.

Lorn gestured at the take-out containers on the table. "This." He said. "Turian ratatouille. A quarian eating a turian version of a human recipe in a krogans' apartment with an asari for company. Can't help wondering what my grandfather would've thought of it all!"

"Wherever he is, he's probably thinking it was all worthwhile, Lorn." Mordin said. "I know who he was. There's monuments to him on Palaven and Tuchanka."

"I know about the one on Palaven." Lorn said. "I visited it on my Pilgrimage. But I didn't know there was one on Tuchanka. How come?"

Mordin shrugged. "After the War it was decided to build a memorial to all the krogan who had died fighting the Reapers. They built it in the Kelphic Valley, close to the ruins of the Shroud 'cause that was where the genophage was cured.

"But Mom and Dad kept hearing stories from krogan. So they built the Wall of Friends nearby. The Wall carries the names of all the soldiers from other races who've gained the respect of the krogan. The first names on it are John Shepard and Mordin Solus, the third is Lieutenant Tarquin Victus, a young turian officer who gave his life disarming a giant bomb the turians had planted on Tuchanka after the Rebellions. Cerberus had dug it up and planned to detonate it.

"The fourth is your grandfather, Lorn!"

"Keelah!" Lorn said. "We never knew!"

"You never asked." Mordin said. "You should come see it sometime."

"Pardon my ignorance." Falere said. "But I've lived most of my life in isolation. Who was your grandfather, Lorn?"

"Grandfather Kal was a quarian marine." Lorn told her. "Back then, we didn't have many ground troops, we fought in and from our ships. But there was always a small corps of marines who could be sent to guard mining operations, trade meetings or scientific expeditions to planetary surfaces.

"After the quarians joined the Reaper War, part of the fleet was sent to support the turians and krogan who were fighting the Reapers on Palaven. Because a lot of our people had already moved to Rannoch, we were using liveships as evac transports for civilian refugees or hospital ships for casualties, and we had a squadron or two from the Heavy Fleet to protect them The marines were there to protect the evac shuttles.

"Then the Reapers took out a comms tower on Palaven. Blanked out an entire sector. One of our ships was in orbit right above it, so Grandfather took his squad and a couple of engineers down to retake the tower and repair it. They got it done, but they were wiped out doing it."

"Don't be so damn modest!" Mordin growled. "There were Reaper ground forces all over that sector, your people were outnumbered and outgunned, but they held on and repaired the tower. As soon as the comms were back up, Palaven Command ordered a krogan platoon in to hold the position and told your Grandpa and his men to evacuate."

"I know, I know!" Lorn said. "Most of them were wounded and all their suits were compromised. Grandfather told Command that they were all dead anyway, so they might as well make it count."

"They held the tower until the krogan got there." Mordin told Falere. "By the time they did, Kal'Reegar was the last quarian standing. He was wounded, his suit was in shreds, and he was sick, but he wouldn't stand down until the area was clear of Reaper troops. Then he formally handed the position over to the krogan commander, and collapsed. He died before the medevac shuttle arrived. After the war, the Hierarchy put a monument up on the spot. The quarians saved hundreds of turian and krogan lives that day, they deserve to be remembered."

"It's a lot to live up to." Falere noted. "No wonder you don't talk about it!"

"We don't like to brag." Lorn said. "Nobody likes a pushy quarian, even nowadays."

Then the light on the comms console flashed.

"We got a call." Mordin said.

"I can't believe this apartment has QEC built in!" Lorn said.

"Dad insisted." Mordin told him. "When you're the Chief of Chiefs, you need to be reachable!"

The holo-image that appeared, however, was not a krogan, but an asari.

"Hey, Aunt Liara!" Mordin greeted her. "Did you get anything?"

"Quite a lot, actually." Liara told him. "Are these your new friends, Mordin? Good to see them.

"Major, I hear good things about you." Liara bent a curious gaze on Falere, before asking, in a significant tone. "Falere, does your mother know you're out?"

"If she does, she's not doing anything about it." Falere replied. "I'm not my sister, Dr T'soni, and this is something I have to do. My friends here know what I am. Should I lose control, I trust them to do what is necessary."

"I'll accept that." Liara said. "Major, I'm sending you two files. One is about what you would expect. A list of Night Watch members and supporters resident on Babylon Five. You'll want to pass that on to Commander Garibaldi.

"The other was personal to the Night Watch leader, and more deeply encrypted. You can read it yourself, but I'll give you the high points.

"It seems that the Night Watch is merely a front for another organisation that calls itself HYDRA. HYDRA is not a human supremacist or even separatist group. It's ultimate aim appears to be to overthrow the governments of all races and install a kind of twisted meritocracy based on the idea that superior individuals should and will rise to power.

"However, their idea of what constitutes a superior individual is…dark. Such people are supposed to be above morality, selfish and utterly ruthless. They advocate a harsh rule which would eliminate the weak but make the strong even stronger. People would be strictly regimented, with severe punishments for failure to meet the standards expected. Those who excel would be promoted, those who rebel strongly enough would be earmarked for leadership – if they survived."

"There are a lot of krogan and turians who would like that idea." Mordin noted. "Some humans, too. I've read that human philosopher, Nietzsche. This sounds like it's based on his ideas."

"It does, but it's actually the other way round." Liara said. "I've done some research. The HYDRA ideology dates back as far as eleven hundred Standard years on Earth. That's when an organisation called the Knights Templar was founded. They were suppressed two hundred years later, but a splinter group called the Teutonic Knights carried on. They founded a society called the Illuminati that lasted until the mid-Twentieth Century, Earth calendar, when a man named Johann Schmidt -they called him the Red Skull for some reason – reinvented it as HYDRA.

"After the First Contact War, a mercenary named Jack Harper, who was already a member of HYDRA, ousted the then head of the organisation. He renamed himself the Illusive Man and relaunched the organisation as Cerberus, changing the aim to one of human supremacy.

"Now that the Illusive Man is dead, it seems that HYDRA is trying to make a comeback. Unfortunately for them, Harpers' profligacy with the organisations' assets, and his alienation of many of their supporters, has left HYDRA with very few resources. The Night Watch is part of their strategy, but the file mentions 'other assets' without saying what they might be."

"Well, we have a place to start, at any rate." Lorn said. "Thanks for your help, Dr T'soni."

"I'm always willing to help a Spectre." Liara replied. "Mordin, give my love to your parents when you talk to them next.

"Shadow Broker out."

"Right!" Mordin said. "Let's get on those files!"

"Whoa!" Lorn said. "Hang on a minute! I deputised you two because you were on hand and I needed to move fast. But the emergency is over now, so really, I should be letting you get back to your lives. I'm a Spectre, this is what I do, but I can't go putting you in harms' way, either of you!"

Mordin laughed, then shook his massive head. "Are you kidding? You think I'm going to go home and face my Dad and tell him I left a Spectre in the middle of a mission? He'd throw me across the room for a coward! And Mom would remind me that when Dad joined up with a Spectre it opened up a whole new future for the krogan!"

"I really don't think this job will be that Galaxy-shaking…" Lorn began, but Mordin cut him off.

"Not the point." He said. "Clan Urdnot are beholden to Spectres. Hell, a couple of us _are_ Spectres! So like it or not, Major vas Tirimon, I'm in!

"Besides, you obviously can't take care of yourself, so somebody's gotta watch your back!"

"As for me." Falere said. "As I told Dr T'soni, this is something I have to do. When I left Lesuss, I didn't know what I was looking for, but now I do."

The only thing more pointless than arguing with a krogan, Lorn knew, was arguing with an asari.

"OK, OK." He said. "But when things get boring, don't moan at me, just remember you volunteered!"

"Peripheral vision can save your life, cultivate it!" That had been one of the lessons Draals' mentors had hammered home, and it seemed they were right. A red gleam in the corner of his eye where one should not have been sent him diving forward. Something whistled past the back of his neck to slam into a nearby wall. The crack of the rifle came milliseconds later.

He stayed down and scanned the building opposite. An office block, closed for the night. Fire escape up the right side. Then the red light again, tracking across to find him. The shooter would want to put another round in him to make sure. A real sniper would know he probably hadn't made the kill-shot and that Draal might be playing possum, an amateur would already have run for it.

The trick was knowing when to move, and Draal did so at the last moment, going low and fast toward the building. The sniper over-corrected but didn't waste a shot because he knew it and by that time Draal was snug against the wall of the building the shooter was on. Too far inside the arc of of fire to be shot at again, everything now depended on whether or not there was another way down from the building. Draal began to scoot along the wall, staying close as he made for the fire-escape.

Then another element entered the situation with the buzz of an air-car and a sudden blaze of white light.

"You, on the roof!" An amplified voice. "This is Babylon Security! Stay where you are and drop your weapon!"

Either BSec was on the ball tonight, or Draal was lucky. Probably both. There was another shot, but the driver held his nerve and position, trusting to the cars' shields and armoured glass.

"Throw down your weapon or we will fire on you! Stay where you are!"

There was a short burst from the cars' rapid-fire. The sniper had gone to cover. Either he had another way off the roof, or he was counting on being able to take down the BSec operatives before back-up arrived. If one of the cops was a glory-hound, or they got panicky about the perp getting away, and decided to land on the roof, they were dead.

Draal drew his M-79 Cavalier pistol. Snipers tended to rely on shields rather than armour, so he switched ammo mode to disruptor and went up the fire-escape like a scared cat.

As he reached the top, a cloud of grey smoke billowed out from near a small structure on the roof, blanketing much of the area. A slender figure bolted out of the cloud toward Draal as the BSec air car tried to correct its position.

Draal fired off a snap shot. The Cavalier is a big gun, and even though his target was clearly well-shielded, the fugitive was knocked off-balance by the impact. The disruptor ammo did its work, shorting out the shields in a crackle of blue sparks, staggering the sniper further. That gave Draal all the time he needed to close in for a take-down. It was only when he had her pinned that he realised his would-be assassin was female.

The BSec vehicle had dropped close to the roof and now one of the agents approached.

"Nobody move!" He barked.

"Captain Draal, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance." Draal told him. "ID Code SMB-001."

The turian agent checked his omni-tool, then nodded.

"Confirmed. Do you need assistance, sir?"

"You've already helped a lot!" Draal allowed. "But a lift back to the station and a hand interrogating the suspect would be more than welcome!"

Peladon was one of those planets that come along maybe twice in a century. Beautiful, fertile, rich with minerals and with a comfortable gravity, young enough so that it hadn't evolved it's own intelligent life, and with a dextro chemistry. The Turian Hierarchy had been lucky to find it and colonise it, and Governor Kassim Numorian was lucky to be in charge of it.

Not that he felt lucky, as he looked out of his office window. There were the business offices, the shops, the volus bank. Over there a busy factory district clustered around the spaceport. On the other side, a residential area with streets of modest housing and a park.

But they could do so much better! This was one of the most productive worlds in the Hierarchy, it should be one of the wealthiest, but it wasn't. Kassim had managed to keep a healthy balance between development and the planets' ecology, but now that was under threat. All because of those fools on Palaven!

Palaven decreed that most of the surplus produce, the minerals mined and the goods manufactured on Peladon were for the use of the Hierarchy. They bought them at cost plus two per cent. What was left of the surplus, perhaps a twentieth, could be sold on elsewhere at market prices. Provided there were no turian customers, who had to be sold to at the same price as the Hierarchy. And if the people of Peladon wanted or needed to buy back from the Hierarchy, they had to do so at cost plus five per cent.

Now, Kassim was coming under pressure to increase agricultural output, to expand the mining and build more factories. To turn this lovely world into another turian megalopolis, all because the older colonies were over-farmed or mined out. Kassim had been to human and asari colonies. He had seen how careful those races were not to overburden their environments, and had listened to the hard lessons they had learned to make them so.

Kassim Numorian was a turian to the core. He understood the rules. The individual lived to serve the community, society, company, platoon, whatever. The ideal of selfless service was bred into the bone. But there were limits. For Kassim, _this_ was his world, his community, his society. For over half a century he had built, protected and guided this colony and its people. Palaven was far away, a distant but voracious mouth that fed on his people and gave back nothing.

Something must be done, but what?

"Sir?" His secretary over the commlink. "Your eleven o'clock is here."

"Send him in." Kassim instructed, as he sat down at his desk.

The turian who entered the room was nobody Kassim knew. Not that he knew everyone on the colony, just the important ones, and the original First-Landers and their families. The man wore no face paint, which was uncommon but not unheard-of, and his conservatively-cut suit was black and white rather than the more usual blue and white. Unusually for a turian, he wore no badge or other marker to indicate the company or branch of government he worked for. He took a seat at Kassim's gesture.

"So, Mr..Sartorius. What can I do for you?" Kassim asked.

"I think it's more a matter of what we can do for you, Governor." Sartorius replied.

"We?" Kassim wanted to know. "Who are _we_?"

"I represent a group who have an interest in world such as this one." Sartorius said. "Colonies that are too far away from the centres of power to have a real say in policy, and are being unfairly used by their central governments."

"And you think Peladon is like that?" Kassim said.

"It's common knowledge, Governor." Sartorius told him. "As is the fact that you are coming under increasing pressure from the Hierarchy to make unwanted changes. Your resistance has been noted and is approved by most of the colonists. You are a respected leader who commands loyalty.

"My associates have a high regard for men like yourself. But of course, they are business people and see the potential in this place. If you could reduce or even remove the proportion of your production taken by the Hierarchy and sell it on the open market, your people could become wealthy without having to risk your environment."

"All very well, but how do you convince Palaven of that?" Kassim demanded. "The last time turian colonies tried to go their own way, we ended up with a civil war! Peladon isn't the only colony being squeezed by the Hierarchy, but we don't have the forces to match them. Especially since the Council will certainly back Palaven."

"Don't be too sure about what the Council will do." Sartorius replied. "But there are other ways to get what you need. My associates are prepared to help, though they will of course require what humans call a _quid pro quo_."

Kassim chuckled. "Humans have a word for everything!" He noted. "And if they don't, the asari do!

"But this isn't about talk, Mr Sartorius. What can your associates offer me?"

Sartorius leaned back in his chair as if he had already accomplished what he had come for. "What do you want?" He asked.

Lorn had been agreeably surprised by the speed and concentration with which his new colleagues had helped him go through the files. Mordin, especially, seemed to have a knack for speed-reading and impressive recall. Falere was an asari, or course, and there was no such thing as an unintelligent asari.

"Well," she said, "it seems that the Night Watch and HYDRA are to all intents and purposes, two entirely separate organisations, with entirely separate agendas."

"You mean Night Watch isn't a front for HYDRA?" Mordin asked, surprised.

"No indeed." Falere told him. "Night Watch requirements are very specific. Members must be human, of course. But instructions are to seek out and accept only those of low social and economic status. Veterans are to be given preference, but they should be either simple troopers or non-commissioned officers. Generally of low to median intellect and their psych profile should show either a personal grudge against non-humans or an unsophisticated xenophobia.

"The only connection between the two organisations appears to be that if anyone of higher intellect, social standing or political sophistication expresses interest in joining the Night Watch, their application is to be declined and their details passed to HYDRA."

"That makes a kind of sense." Lorn agreed. "These files tell me that HYDRA looks for people of higher social status and 'superior' intellect. They're looking for military service in Special Forces or elite units, preferably officers. Also scientists, engineers, doctors, business people, criminals and academics in every discipline, as long as they're high-level. Psych profiles should include ambition, dedication, insubordination and ruthlessness.

"Most importantly, HYDRA is looking for recruits from every species, not just humanity. The only no-no is recruiting geth, which makes sense. What one geth knows, all geth know, so it wouldn't be a secret organisation for long!

"Ha! One of their top targets for recruitment is Aria T'loak. I wish them luck with that!"

"So what's the game?" Mordin asked. "This guy was the local Night Watch boss, but he was also working for HYDRA. How does that work?"

"Smoke and mirrors." Falere told him. "If the same people are behind both. HYDRA is using the Night Watch to distract from its own activities. Perhaps also to encourage non-humans to join HYDRA as a counter-measure to human separatism."

"Clever." Mordin said. "In the meantime, I've found something a bit more practical. It seems that our bar-owner was also a shipping agent. I've got a record here of him leasing a transport craft. It was dispatched to Earth a few days ago to pick up 'ground crew' and take them onto a human colony.

"Not just any human colony, but Eden Prime! Now that's not just the Alliances' showpiece colony, it's also the most important Prothean archaeological site in human space except for the Mars Archive itself. That's the place where the Prothean beacon was uncovered, the one that gave Shepard his first warning about the Reapers.

"But the really interesting thing is that the co-ordinates the ship is being sent to on Eden Prime point to a dig site that was abandoned and sealed off just after the Reaper War. I can't find anything else about it."

"Doesn't sound good, it's making my nose twitch." Lorn said. "There's a quarian frigate docked here at B5 that I can commandeer. I think we need to go to Eden Prime, people!

"And in the meantime, I'm going to use my Spectre clearance to see if I can find out about that dig site!"


	5. Chapter 5

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter Five**

The call from CIC came through just as Marcus was starting on his thirtieth knock-knock joke and at about the moment Ivanova was thinking that the next one would end in a gunshot.

"Ah! We've arrived!" Marcus said.

"Arrived where, exactly?" Ivanova asked. "You were a bit vague about our destination."

"That was because I wasn't quite sure exactly where we'd finish up." Marcus said. "The Shadow Broker gave us the coordinates, but they were uploaded directly to the ships' AI, for security reasons. We suspect that somebody out there, who might not want us to find Z'ha'doum, can read minds. Organic minds, anyway. But Imogene is an EDI-class AI with geth upgrades. Invisible to telepathy and unhackable."

"So if anyone here had actually known where we were going, the information could have been picked straight out of their brains?" Ivanova asked.

"It's possible, and they might not even have known." Marcus allowed. "Better safe than sorry, eh?

"Now, let's go and see where we are!"

The _Imogenes_' captain was an asari named Eshra. As they arrived in CIC, she was looking at a holo-projection of the planet they were now orbiting.

"That doesn't look hospitable!" Ivanova noted.

"It's not quite as bad as it looks." Eshra told her. "The atmosphere is breathable, at any rate. But it's cold, and dry, and the sun is too dim and far away to provide much in the way of light -for humans anyway – asari won't have a problem."

"I'll wear my thermal undies then." Marcus said. "Do we know anything else about this tourist trap?"

"The planet is called Gramanth on the star maps. " The AI, Imogene, spoke up. "According to records it was in batarian space at the time of the Reaper War, but was never colonised. What little remains of the Hegemony's records, however, suggests that there was a quite major battle on the surface once. Exactly when, or against whom, is unclear.

"However, the Shadow Brokers' information indicate that there is at least one structure on the surface. It is known as the Black Temple and predates batarian civilisation. The legends suggest that there are carvings and decorations of some significance in the Temple. I am scanning now.

"I have located the temple complex. Warning, there are life-signs around the complex, perhaps as many as fifty, but the temple appears to be the centre of a field that prevents me getting an accurate count or determining the species."

"So there might be a welcoming party." Ivanova said. "Something tells me those aren't tour guides, custodians and coffee-shop staff!"

"Bring it on!" Drokk said cheerfully.

"He's been at the chocolate again." Seera remarked. "I thought we agreed to keep him off the sugar?"

"Alert!" Imogene said. "I am receiving a distress signal for a site five klicks west of the Temple. Transmission is in the Guard, but I am unable to identify the ship or race. One life-sign at the site, species unknown.

"If they know to transmit in Guard, then they know about the Council, at least! Enough to know Council race ships will answer an SOS." Benezia noted.

"Could be an ambush, a trap." Larsus warned.

"If there's only one of them, then they'll have to be a Hell of a fighter to take us all down." Drokk said. "And the AI says it isn't a krogan, so that's not likely."

"If there are more than one, they have cloaking abilities far beyond ours." Nerab pointed out. "In which case, why bother with a trap when they could ambush us at any time?"

"Only one way to find out." Marcus said. "Eshra, get the shuttle prepped. All right ladies and gents, we're about to take a short nature ramble. Tool up and let's go!"

"Here's to us." Garrus toasted.

"Who's like us?" Kaidan responded.

"Damn few, and they're all dead!" Garrus finished.

They drank, then Kaidan said. "OK, so why did you ask me here, Garrus? The poker game isn't for another couple weeks. And where's Tali?"

"Tali's busy, you know what she's like -couldn't stay still if you tied her down." Garrus said. "As to why, it's complicated, and I'm not sure how to start."

"Garrus, you and I go way back!" Kaidan reminded him. "We were both with Shepard from the get-go, when nobody else believed him about Saren, never mind the Reapers. We were both there that day in London as well, right at the end. After what we've been through together, nothing - not even politics – will make me think any less of you, buddy!"

"Thanks." Garrus said gratefully. "Because this is politics.

"Look, for a while now, there's been pressure building up in some of our colonies. The Hierarchy seem to think it's old-style separatism, like before the Unification War, but it isn't. This isn't about colonial identity and tribalism. It's about the way we live, the way the Hierarchy runs things.

"A lot of our core colonies have been occupied for centuries, and I have to admit, we've been careless with them. They've been mined out, or over-farmed, they hardly produce any more. But the Hierarchy won't let them go, so they've started taking more and more from the newer colonies to support the older ones, which means the newer colonies have enough for their own needs, but precious little surplus to sell on the Galactic market. On top of that, the Hierarchy is pushing for them to go down the same route as the older colonies -over-develop and ruin the local ecology."

"And of course," Kaidan said. "The Hierarchy expects the new colonies to fall in line out of your turian ethic of service, right?"

"Right." Garrus replied. "Only some of the colonies don't see it that way. They see they're not being allowed to do as much for their own community as they'd like to. Also, some of them see the wider Galaxy as the community they should be serving.

"The most recent colony to start grumbling is a world called Peladon. It's a turian equivalent of Eden Prime; beautiful, fertile, rich. I know the guy who runs it, Governor Numorian. He's a good man, a loyal turian, but he feels, and I agree, that his people are being treated unfairly."

"We know all this." Kaidan allowed. "The Alliance has always felt that the Hierarchy asks too much from its newer colonies economically, and politically, they don't like the tight leash Palaven keeps on them. We think it makes some kind of rebellion more likely. Prime Minister Semutu made the point to Primarch Alexus at the last Galactic Summit."

"I know, and the Matriarchs and the Dalatrass agreed with him." Garrus agreed. "But we've done things the same way for so long, it's hard to change the way they think on Palaven. The next in line for Primarch is colony-born, so we may see a change then, but it could be too late."

"How so?" Kaidan wanted to know.

"Because the Hierarchy is worrying." Garrus admitted. "They've already got contingency plans to put the discontent colonies under martial law. If that happens, there could be open rebellion, and they've asked me to quietly canvass the other Councillors to see if we can get military support for the Hierarchy if it does. That won't happen, we both know it.

"But I've also had contacts with the colonial governments, and they're asking me to try and get Council support for a change in policy. They don't want independence, just more control over local policy and the right to trade within the Hierarchy or with other races on freely negotiated terms."

"Most of us would be happy to support that." Kaidan said. "What's your feeling on it?"

"I'm with the colonies." Garrus admitted. "It seems to me the best way forward for the turian people. But whatever we do, we need to do it fast!"

"Why?" Kaidan asked.

"I spoke with Kassim Numorian, yesterday. He's the Governor of Peladon." Garrus said grimly. "He tells me he had an offer of help from a man – a turian – called Sartorius. This Sartorius offered help from his 'associates' and asked Kassim what he wanted. Kassim put him off – he didn't like the look of the man and wanted me to search his background before he did anything. But he also told me that Sartorius had been making the same offer across the colonies, and that he's got some governors interested."

"Associates?" Kaidan frowned. "Didn't that Morden guy talk about his 'associates'?"

"He did." Garrus agreed. "That's why I've got a bad feeling about this."

Lorn had not expected such a quick response to his enquiries about the dig site on Eden Prime. He most certainly had not expected a personal response, especially from the individual whose image now stood in the quarian frigates' QEC room.

"Commander Javik." He said. "It's an honour, sir."

"As much for me as for you, Major." Javik replied. "I am familiar with your record, it is impressive for one so young. I fear that my people were not hopeful for your race, I am pleased to see that we were wrong.

"But that is not the matter I wished to speak with you about. You have requested information regarding an archaeological site on Eden Prime. The site was sealed by the Alliance on my recommendation, and normally your request would have been refused. But since you are a Council Spectre, the Alliance consulted me on the matter. May I ask why you are curious about the site?"

Lorn briefly told the prothean about his investigation into the Night Watch, the discovery that it was merely a front for a more sinister group, and the fact that this organisation was sending a team to the site.

Javik seemed alarmed. "Major, you must listen to me! The site in question was once a prothean military bunker. A base with a single purpose -planetary denial.

"It contains a single bomb. An enhanced radiation device capable of wiping out all organic life on the planet while at the same time emitting a massive electro-magnetic pulse. We hoped that by detonating such devices on worlds we considered lost, we could destroy the Reapers' creatures and rob them of their harvest. We also hoped that the pulse might slow, cripple or even destroy some of the Reapers themselves. If these people were able to take the bomb and reproduce it…!

"Major, they must be stopped! I can tell you no more except that the bomb is itself defended in some manner. I know nothing of that other than the name – Project Guardian.

"Exercise caution, Major, and good luck! Javik out."

The vorchas' name was Skreeth, and he was unusually calm for one of his species as he stood in the centre of the krogan Council Hall.

"The krogan have certainly achieved much in the years since the genopahge was cured." He was saying. "But there is still a long way to go. My associates are willing to help, and can provide a great deal of assistance. All they ask in return would be a few simple favours."

From the Male Chair, Urdnot Wrex looked around the Hall. Every clan chief was here, each male with a female beside him. Some of the males looked curious, most of them were suspicious. All the females stared at Skreeth in frank disgust. Wrex turned to Bakara, who sat beside him in the Female Chair.

"He's pretty smooth, for a vorcha." He remarked.

"My people have learned our lesson." Skreeth noted. "We were driven to the edge of extinction by our own savagery. We must now do things differently. May associates have been of great help."

Bakara leaned forward. Her face was veiled, in the manner of krogan females, but her eyes were cold. "What you fail to realise, Skreeth, is that krogan are not so easily fooled. You may believe your companions are invisible, they may believe it. But we can see them. Not well, but well enough!"

The air was filled with screeching as half-a-dozen black, insect-like forms appeared around Skreeth.

Despite all the changes in krogan society, one thing remained constant. All krogan males go armed, even in Council. So when Wrex said. "Kill them all." Only one volley was needed.

"So how come," Urdnot Mordin wanted to know, "an ardat-yakshi is wandering around loose, anyway?"

Falere shook her head. "The monasteries are not prisons." She told him. "any of us can leave at any time. But we do so at our own risk. If we encounter a Justicar, or a Commando, or any other asari, and they find out what we are, they are required to kill us if they can. If one is discreet, and well-behaved, it is possible to get by, with care."

"But why leave?" Mordin persisted.

Falere hesitated, then shrugged. "I had two sisters, both ardat-yakshi like myself. My eldest sister, Morinth, refused to enter the monastery, and instead hunted across the Galaxy, killing at will and for pleasure, selecting victims for what she could savour in them. Because of that, our mother set aside all she had built and hoped for, to become a Justicar. She hunted Morinth for centuries before finally killing her.

"Rila and I sought peace in the monastery on Lesuss. But then the Reapers came. Our guardians sent out a distress call, but it was too late. Most of us were taken by the Reapers and turned into monsters. Engines of biotic destruction they called Banshees. The Banshees killed the Commandos sent to answer the distress call. Then my mother came, and at the same time, Commander Shepard arrived at the request of the asari government. They found me, protected me. But it was too late for Rila, the Reapers had already begun to convert her. With the last shreds of her own will, she ordered us to leave, and detonated a bomb the Commandos had left, destroying the monastery and the Reaper creatures within it.

"Mother was left with two choices, kill me or herself. But Shepard intervened, persuading her to live on and to let me live if I promised to remain on Lesuss.

"But the sacrifices of my mother and Rila left me feeling empty and worthless. Alone on Lesuss, I began to learn combat skills, and develop my biotics. I told myself it was in case the Reapers returned. But the truth is that I was readying myself to leave. I wished to do something to justify what my mother and sister had done, and to atone for Morinths' evil.

"After the war, I left Lesuss and went to Terminus, where I found a doctor who would fit me with the biotic implants and amp I needed. I have been searching ever since, and now I think I may have found my mission.

"If we succeed, I will return to Lesuss to live out my days, finally at peace."

Eden Prime was a world of great beauty. Lorn had heard it said that it looked like Earth in the days before humans had built their cites and industries. He had been to Earth, and could only agree. The sky was the same shade of blue, and the plant life closely resembled what he had seen in the great parks and wilderness spaces humans had created since the Reaper War.

There was one difference, though. Nowhere on Earth would you see a scene like this, with the remains of prothean architecture thrusting up out of the ground like the teeth of some unthinkable monster.

"Shuttle up ahead, sir." Reported Sergeant Rem'Hazt, who led the squad of quarian Marines the frigates' captain had placed at Lorns' disposal.

"Looks like a commercial one, unmarked." Lorn noted. "Could carry maybe twenty people. Less if they had heavy equipment.

"Have one of your men disable it, Sergeant. No point giving the bad guys an easy out!"

Half a kilometre further on, they found the remains of a security post and four dead Alliance soldiers. A weak shout led them to the ruins of the main office, where they found a badly-wounded Alliance officer. The man struggled to get up, but Lorn knelt beside him.

"At ease, Lieutenant." He ordered. "Major Reegar, Special Tactics and Recon. What happened?"

"Lieutenant Patel, sir." The young man reported. "The shuttle asked for landing permission. Claimed to be delivering supplies for a dig just west of here. They had the location and authorisation right, so we thought no more of it. Happens all the time, there's still a lot of digging goes on around here.

"Then they hit the post with rocket launchers! We didn't stand a chance. They took out the comm tower first, so we couldn't call for back up. Luckily, they didn't bother with clean up, just marched on through.

"About fifteen, plus some kind of gear, all human, all armed and armoured. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were Cerberus!"

"What about you?" Lorn asked.

Patel grimaced. "I got hit, sir, but I shot myself full of medi-gel. I'll be OK."

"Sir," Sergeant Hazt interrupted, "I've signalled the ship for a medevac, they'll be here in five."

"Thanks." Patel said. "One more thing, Major. There were two shuttles. The other headed off north. I thought nothing of it at the time, like I said, there's digs all over here. But the other security post for the sealed site is that way…."

Lorn triggered his commlink. "Captain? Send another Marine squad to check the northern security post. Have medevac on standby for there as well. Alert the Alliance garrison commander that we have hostiles on site. Reegar out.

"Hang in there, Lieutenant, this is your lucky day. Our ships' doctor is a looker, and she has a thing for human men!

"Sergeant, we're moving out!"

"So maybe thirty, thirty-five." Mordin noted. "You want me to take 'em on my own, or are you in a hurry?"

"For a man of letters, you're really quite aggressive!" Falere remarked.

"'A krogan's a krogan, for a'that', as Robert Burns probably never said." Mordin told her.

Taking quarian Marines up against heavily-armoured Cerberus troops would once have been suicide, Lorn knew. But the new, geth-enhanced armour, and the addition of turian, human and krogan instructors to the Marine training programme had changed all that. Not to mention that a punctured suit was no longer a death-sentence, as it had been to his grandfather.

Nevertheless, they advanced with care, despite Mordins' half-humorous chafing. So they spotted the lone look-out long before he spotted them. Falere disposed of him with a single, silent Warp attack.

"Slick." Mordin commented.

"High-level biotics go with the mutation." Falere allowed. "Which is why ardat-yakshi aren't supposed to have implants."

They crept up to the edge of an artificial crater, clearly the initial excavation. A flight of rough steps led down to a path which in turn led to a square blockhouse that clearly covered underground access. But now a shield barrier was across the door and three portable cover-nodes were arranged in front of it. Behind them were five armoured troopers.

Their armour was definitely Cerberus armour, but it had been repainted from black and white to plain black. The only splashes of colour were the red badges, a stylised representation of a many-headed serpent.

"HYDRA." Falere breathed. "They do exist, it seems."

Lorn was scanning the area with his hard-suits' sensors.

"Right, Sergeant." He said quietly. "There's another look-out on the north rim, but he's not looking this way. Do you have a sniper in this unit?"

"Yessir!" The Sergeant responded. "General purpose unit, sir. We have a sniper, a rocketeer and a grenadier as well as riflemen."

"Good." Lorn approved. "Put the sniper on the other look-out. Your rocketeer will have to take out the generator there. It powers the shield over the door and the cover nodes. We need to put a grenade in the middle of that squad as well.

"Now listen, we need to take them out all at the same time. Don't give them a chance to warn the others. So when I give the order, everybody fires at once, got it?

"Then once we move, we don't stop until we get where we're going!

"Clear?"

"Crystal, sir!" Sergeant Hazt was masked, of course, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

It all went off efficiently, if not quietly, but none of the HYDRA troops survived long enough to get a message off.

"Go!" Lorn barked, and led off with Mordin and Falere flanking him.

Thankfully, the blockhouse covered a steep but wide stairway, rather than the ladder he had feared. This took them to a tunnel which was straight and well made – prothean work by the look of it, though it was hard to tell when the only illumination was from their rifle-mounted flashlights.

Then there was light ahead. A ragged hole where HYDRA had clearly blasted through the final barrier. The sound of yells, shots and the occasional scream came from beyond.

"In, spread and look sharp!" Lorn ordered. "Pick your targets! There's a bomb down here and we don't want a stray shot setting it off!"

Nobody noticed them until they were all through the gap and Falere had blocked it with a Singularity. For one thing, the chamber was much bigger than anyone had expected. For another, the HYDRA troops were busy.

What was keeping them busy was a giant armoured figure. Definitely a prothean, but at least a foot taller than Mordin and proportionately built. He appeared to be weaponless, but was laying about him with a level of biotics not even the most skilled asari Commando could have matched.

"Project Guardian." Lorn realised.

Five HYDRA troopers were already out of it -either dead or crippled, it was hard to tell, but that still left twenty standing, and the prothean colossus was simply outnumbered. Even as Lorn and his squad barrelled into the fray, the Guardians' biotic barrier gave out and the concentrated enemy fire tore through his armour. He fell as the quarian squad swept past him and attacked the HYDRA troops.

Falere knelt beside him to see if she could help, only to find her hand grabbed…

"_Your enhancements are life-shortening." Visionary was telling him. "Once you are out of stasis, you will have perhaps a year, if you survive the battle."_

"_There will be a battle, then?" He asked._

_The VI nodded. "That is your purpose. You will only be awoken if there is unauthorised access to the bomb. Your task will be to either ensure or prevent its' detonation, depending on the situation. Should the bomb be set to detonate by an authorised person, you will die in the blast. Should the bomb not be needed, then in due course your life-support will be terminated when the Million arise._

"_Either way, your sacrifice will be honoured in the coming Empire."_

"_For the Empire!" He replied._

Falere blinked. She had heard that protheans could communicate by touch, but had never expected to experience it. She looked down at the prothean and knew he was dying.

"The Million never arose." He whispered.

"Only one. Fifty thousand years later." She told him.

"I cannot tell you what you must do, the final failsafe." The prothean gasped. "You could not absorb it that way. But you can do it your way. Please. Or this world will die."

"You will die if I…" She began, but he cut her off.

"That cannot be prevented, I was made to die. At least this way, my death will be useful!"

Falere knew he was right. Suppressing a shudder that was as much hunger as revulsion, she fixed her gaze on him.

Half the HYDRA troops were down, but the rest had found cover, and were proving stubborn to winkle out. A lot of it was down to their leader - a tall man whose black armour was trimmed with gold. He clearly knew what he was doing, how to hold his men together.

Lorn was considering how best to deal with him when Falere dashed up to him.

"The bomb is going to detonate!" She told him. "I need to get to that console, now!"

Lorn was about to point out that there were HYDRA troop in the way when Mordin, who had been crouched beside him, jumped to his feet and, with a terrifying roar, charged!

As Lorn followed his friend, he realised something he had almost forgotten. that Mordin was the eldest son of the legendary Warlord Urdnot Wrex. Mordin's charge scattered men in all directions, and the shotgun blasts that followed it tore even the armoured HYDRA troopers apart. Lorn was firing his assault rifle from the hip -bad practice but effective at this range. A blaze of blue light came from beside him as Falere hurled another trooper aside. At Hazt's barked command, the Marines stormed up after them, and they were at the console!

"Keep them off me!" Falere commanded, as her fingers began to fly over the unfamiliar controls.

They did their best, but the HYDRA leader was clearly desperate to regain the console, and ordered his men to take Falere down at all costs!

As the battle raged, several things happened. The roof of the chamber dilated open, letting the light of late morning in. Then a metal sphere, about half a metre in diameter, rose up out of the floor on the end of a slender shaft until it was level with the opening. Finally, the glow of a Mass Effect field surrounded the sphere, which suddenly shot up into the sky, the sonic boom almost drowning out the HYDRA leaders' scream of rage.

Everyone paused for a second, then the HYDRA chief snarled "Asari bitch!" and emptied his machine pistol at Falere. Her barrier was up, but she was exhausted, and the heavy, rapid fire overloaded it. The slugs punched through her light armour and she fell.

With a roar, Mordin went for the leader, but the last two troopers were in his way, and by the time he had downed them, the HYDRA leader had activated something on his omni-tool. He vanished in a flash of white light.

Lorn knelt beside Falere.

"Keelah!" He muttered when he saw the damage, then. "Hang in there, Falere, we…."

"Lorn, shut up and listen!" She said softly but firmly. "The bomb was sent into the sun, it was the final failsafe.

"My mother is the Justicar Samara. Contact her and tell her everything, you understand? Tell her this is what I had to do. And tell her I love her. Will you do that, Lorn?"

"Yes, I promise." He told her, and with that her will seemed to break.

"Kalahira.." She murmured, then coughed up blood. Desperately, she tried to speak again, but couldn't find the breath.

Then Mordin was kneeling beside them. "Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness for this one." He said softly. "Kalahira whose waves wear down stone and sand, wash the sins from this one and place her on the distant shore of the infinite spirit. Kalahira, this ones' heart is pure, but beset by contention and wickedness. Guide her to where the traveller never tires, the lover never leaves and the hungry never starve. Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me."

Her last look was one of gratitude, before her eyes became blank and fixed. Lorn closed them gently. "Keelah sel'ai." He murmured -the phrase was still used among quarians when bidding farewell to someone who had died far from home. He would mourn her later, for now he had work still to do.

"Sergeant, how are we?" He asked.

"Two dead, four seriously wounded, some bumps and bruises, and a few punctured suits." Sergeant Hazt responded. "Thank the ancestors for the new armour! Shuttles are on the way. If we get the wounded back quickly enough, they should have a chance.

"The suit punctures are no problem any more. They'll be sick, of course, but not for long. Couple days for the planet-born, maybe a week for the ship-born."

"There's room enough in here for shuttles to drop straight in." Lorn observed. "It'll save us having to carry them up that tunnel and we can get them into treatment quicker."

"Good point, I'll let the pilots know." The sergeant replied. "May I say, Major, it's been an honour to serve with you! You know, not many of us believed that a quarian could ever become a Spectre. Kal'Reegar would've been proud."

"You knew him?" Lorn asked.

"He was my drill instructor." Rem'Hazt told him. "Tough bastard, but he never made us do anything he couldn't or wouldn't do himself. But family meant a lot to him – he'd never have stopped bragging about you, youngster!"

Captain Draal considered the woman opposite him. Close-cropped dark hair, firm jaw, thin mouth, dark eyes with the unflinching stare of a bird of prey.

"Karla Makarova." He said. "Dealer in second-hand aircars. At least that's what your ID card says.

"Your DNA, however, tells me that you are Katherine Maxim, former Cerberus operative, wanted for war-crimes and listed as missing, presumed dead.

"Now, Ms Maxim, you have a decision to make. You're going to be found guilty, whatever happens. But after that, well it's either a lethal injection, or life on a penal colony. Which happens depends on our conversation right now. Help me out, and you get to live. Go the extra mile, and it might help you get to a colony where the life-expectancy is more than six months.

"Your decision."

"I'm listening." She said.

"Listening won't help, talking will." Draal told her. "You took a very professional pot-shot at me last night. Why?"

"You're an alien." She told him.

"From where I'm sitting, you're the alien." Draal pointed out.

"OK, then you're a non-human." Was the reply.

"This place is full of non-humans." Draal persisted. "Why me specifically?"

Maxim sighed. "Because it was the job." She admitted. "The car business is only a cover, you knew that already. And you probably also know that I'm a professional assassin. I was a Nemesis, a field sniper, for Cerberus. After the war, I tried to go legit, but the car business doesn't make that much, so I started accepting jobs on the side.

"At first, it was old Cerberus contacts. Mostly taking out former members who'd ratted on the organisation. There was a lot of money to be made, you should have seen the bounties on Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson!

"But that's all gone now. All the Cerberus survivors have either been caught, died or gone dark. But by then I had a reputation, so the jobs kept coming. You were just the latest."

"So who hired you and why?" Draal wanted to know.

"I never ask why, unless it's a human." Maxim admitted. "I have to have a good reason to kill a human. But one more dead alien? Who gives a damn?

"As to who, I don't know. Sometimes it's safer not to. The job came from one of my usual contacts, guy called Rod Peters. He owns a bar down on Shalta Ward, and he knows people.

"So if you want to know who, Captain, you'll have to look at the list of people you've pissed off! You're a Spectre, so It'll be a long list. If you handle them like you handled me, I don't think you'll have a problem!

"That enough to save my life? If it helps, I can tell you who else I've killed, but we'll be here all day."

"I'll leave that to BSec." Draal told her. "If you co-operate with them, I'll use Spectre authority to waive the death penalty."

"You're all heart." She told him.

"I know, it's my biggest weakness." He replied.

"You know, as one professional to another," she said, "you're one of the best I've seen. For an alien."

"Thank you, I think," Draal said as he left the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter Six**

"The shuttle is ahead, just over that rise." Reported Nerab, who had point.

"Hawkeye, sneak up there and take a look." Marcus ordered.

The geth sniper unit faded from view as it activated its Tactical Cloak. A few moments later, it's voice came over the commlink.

"The shuttle is intact, operating on low power. Unknown configuration, primitive but sturdy. There is a lifeform inside."

"I don't understand." Benezia said. "If the shuttle is intact, why not leave? Or at least get up into orbit, where it's safe?."

"May not be able to." Nerab replied. "Hawkeye transmitted scans to me. It's a primitive model, so it may require more than one crew-member to fly."

Larsus gave a low whistle. "That's old school!" He said. "There's one like that in the Hierarchy Museum on Palaven. You have to have a navigator to tell it where to go and a pilot to make it go there. No integrated systems or VIs to help out."

"Alert!." Hawkeye interrupted. "The side door has opened. One individual, species unknown, but apparently female. Manning the door gun -fixed point rapid-fire weapon – we recommend caution. We have a shot, if necessary."

Then a womans' voice came to them, carrying faint but clear in the thin air.

"I know you're there!" She called. "I can feel you! Two humans and a salarian. I don't recognise the others. Come where I can see you, we need to talk!"

"That voice sounds familiar." Marcus said.

"I was thinking that, too." Ivanova agreed. "What do we do?"

"Hawkeye, stay put for now." Marcus ordered. "Everyone else, follow me, slow and easy. Try to look harmless."

"Wouldn't hurt a fly, me!" Drokk commented wryly.

They crested the rise and descended slowly. The shuttle was indeed primitive, with stubby wings and atmospheric jets. Clearly built by a race not yet fully familiar with how to utilise the mass effect.

The side door was open and the woman behind the door-gun clearly knew what she was doing, as the weapon tracked them steadily during their approach.

"That's a narn!" Ivanova remarked quietly.

"And I've seen her before." Marcus allowed.

The woman let them quite close before ordering them to stop.

"Take your helmets off, please." She requested. "The air is quite breathable, and it's not that cold."

They did so, and she went from tension to relieved surprise immediately.

"Commander Ivanova? Oathblade Cole? What are you doing here?" She asked.

"We might ask you the same, Professor Na'Toth." Ivanova said. "Are you all right?"

"Physically, yes." Na'Toth replied. "But otherwise a little shaken up. My team and crew are all dead! We were attacked!"

"Calm down, Professor." Ivanova said. "Have you had anything to eat or drink?"

"Err, no." Na'Toth admitted. "I hadn't thought about that!"

"People rarely do." Ivanova noted. "Are there supplies on that shuttle?"

Na'Toth nodded.

"OK!" Ivanova said. "You're almost certainly dehydrated, and your blood sugars – or whatever the narn equivalent is – are probably low. Let's get you inside and get something inside you before we do anything else, or you won't be making any sense!"

"Hawkeye, you can come out now!" Benezia called. Na'Toth blinked as the geth appeared and made its way down toward them.

"I didn't sense you at all!" She said. "You're a geth, aren't you?"

"We are." Hawkeye replied. "Our friends have designated this platform Hawkeye. You are a telepath."

"Yes." Na'Toth allowed. She was about to say more, but Ivanova cut her off and briskly escorted her inside.

Rod Peters might have been a smart operator, but even the smartest can make a dumb decision. So when BSec came in the front door of his bar 'mob-handed', as the saying goes, he took off out of the back.

Captain Draal leaned against a wall and stuck his arm out into the alley. There was a meaty smack, followed by a thud. Draal bent down, flipped Peters over, and cuffed him.

"Captain Draal, Special Tactics and Recon." He announced. "If you'd surrendered to BSec, your civil rights would have been in force. Now, however, you're all mine!"

"Shit!" Was all Peters had to say.

Really, it was all he needed to say. He had the bad habit of keeping excellent records of both his legitimate and criminal enterprises. The criminal records were on a separate computer, and heavily encrypted, but Draal knew someone who could help with that. BSecs' Major Crimes Squad employed a geth platform they called Tim, and nobody hacks quite like a geth.

"We have traced the message concerning the attempt on your life Draal-Captain." Tim reported. "It does not come from a personal account of any kind, but originates in the office of a company based on Omega."

"Aria T'loak?" Draal asked.

Tim shook its head, a very organic gesture. "The company pays the usual levies to Arias' organisation, as well as supporting the Talons. It is a semi-legitimate enterprise, purchasing commodities from unlicensed colonies in Terminus and selling them on to customers in Council space who prefer not to pay the extra taxes on direct trade with Terminus.

"The company itself is registered with the volus government, but is owned and run by lystheni salarians."

"What, or who," Draal enquired, "are lystheni salarians?"

"Information is limited." Tim admitted. "They are a sub-species of salarians, exiled from the Union and disowned by the Dalatrass centuries ago. The salarian Councillor might know more. If he is willing to discuss the matter."

Justicar Samara took the news of Faleres' death stoically at first, but as Lorn explained the circumstances and manner of her passing, a gleam of pride came into Samaras' eyes, and she stood straighter.

"Thank you, Major." She said when he finished. "I feared for Falere when I heard she had left Lesuss. But I also knew she was not Morinth, so I did not feel it necessary to pursue her.

"It is strange how the Universe works. My daughters were the cause of my shame, they drove me away from my bond-mate. Morinths' evil made me a Justicar. But Rila's sacrifice, and now Faleres', have more than made up for their sisters' madness. They have restored my pride.

"What did you do with Faleres' remains?"

"We have them in stasis on the ship, I wanted to know how you wished them disposed." Lorn told her.

"By law and tradition, she must be returned to Lesuss for cremation." Samara said. "You tell me she had embraced the drell religion? I know a drell priest, the son of an old friend and ally, who can perform the necessary rites for her. He lives on Babylon Five. I will go there and collect him at once, then make my way to Lesuss."

"We'll meet you there as soon as possible, then." Lorn promised. "Would it be possible for Urdnot Mordin and I to attend the ceremony?"

"It would be an honour." Samara replied. "That Falere had two such distinguished friends will say much for her, and for me.

"But I have one question, Major. You knew Falere was ardat-yakshi. Why did you accept her help and offer her your friendship? It could have been dangerous for you."

Lorn shrugged. "I wouldn't be much of a Spectre if I wasn't prepared to take risks." He said. "Besides, we quarians don't judge people for what they are any more, only for what they do. We learned that lesson the hard way -the Morning War, three centuries of unnecessary exile, and escaping extinction by the skin of our teeth and the actions of Commander Shepard."

"I've often wondered about that." Samara said. "I knew Shepard for an inspiring leader, but to persuade Admiral Han'Gerrel to cease fire on geth….What did he say? Tali never told me."

"He said 'Keelah sel'ai'." Lorn told her. "He was standing on Rannoch, our homeworld, but everyone in the fleet knew it wasn't Rannoch he was speaking about. It was his own homeworld, Earth. The world that was being overrun by Reapers while Shepard was putting his life on the line to save the krogan, to save us, and to save the geth. It was a debt we could never repay - sparing the geth and taking our fleets to Earth to face the Reapers was the least we could do. Now the geth are part of our society, and they've given us so much!

"So I couldn't judge your daughter simply for being what she was. I trusted her, and she proved more than worthy of it!"

"For that I thank you." Samara told him. "And even more for giving her the chance to live, and die, among friends.

"But now I must see her at rest. Then I will turn my attention to this HYDRA. A fitting task for a Justicar, and possibly my last. I will inform you of anything I find, Major, and hope you will return the courtesy.

"Until we meet again, Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon!"

Councillor Taron was a typical salarian -fast-talking and fast-thinking -so the pause he took to collect his thoughts on hearing Draals' question was unusual. Finally, he looked up and began.

"We do not speak of the lystheni often." He said. "If you were not a Spectre, I doubt I would answer you at all, Captain. Salarians are often accused of keeping secrets unnecessarily, and of always knowing more than we admit to, but this is not the case here.

"Some salarians nowadays speak of the Three Great Shames of our people. The Second Shame was inflicting the genophage on the krogan, the Third was the attempt of Dalatrass Linron to bribe or bully Shepard into sabotaging Mordin Solus' cure. But the First Shame was the way in which we treated the lystheni.

"You must know that Sur'kesh has one large landmass which occupies most of the tropical zone. It is where we evolved. But there is another landmass, much smaller, to the south in the cool temperate zone. Millennia ago certain tribes were defeated in war and fled to this southern continent. It was assumed they would die there, so they were left to their fate."

"But they survived, I presume?" Draal said.

"They did." Taron confirmed. "Though at what cost I cannot begin to imagine. We did not approach the southern land again until centuries later, when we went in search of minerals to feed our growing industries. But they were there, waiting for us, and they were not welcoming! They drove those early expeditions off. We discovered that they were quite as advanced as we were, at least technologically. We called them 'lsytheni', which translates – as near as I can make it – to 'southrons', and we tried to reconcile them with our society, but it proved impossible."

"Had they changed so much?" Draal asked. "We minbari have three castes, but we are all still minbari."

Taron sighed. "There had been physical adaptations, certainly. The lystheni are more robust, they can store fat in their bodies as we cannot and they live longer – perhaps sixty years. But that was nothing. It was the changes in culture neither could adapt to.

"We are a haploid-diploid species, Captain. Our women lay many eggs. Left unfertilised, they hatch into males, but fertilised eggs hatch females. Only a small percentage of eggs are fertilised, so we have few women The mother is present at the hatching, and the hatchlings imprint on her, ensuring lifelong deference and loyalty. Because all males are imprinted on their mothers, women are the ones who control our society and government.

"The lystheni took a different path. They fertilise fifty per cent of their eggs, so that men and women are in equal numbers. The hatchlings are imprinted on both parents. Breeding partners are chosen on personal preference and for life. They breed for strength and aggressiveness as much as for intelligence, and their society is based on a militaristic model of strict discipline.

"This we thought barbaric. We were afraid of the lystheni, and what their influence might do to our stable society, so we kept them confined to the southern landmass. When we discovered the mass effect, and began to explore and colonise the Galaxy, we decided to rid ourselves of the lystheni. By threatening their land with nuclear bombardment, we forced them to pack up all they could carry and board transports. We took them to worlds where we thought they could survive. Then we forgot about them.

"We perhaps should not have been surprised, then, when our forgotten kindred sided with the krogan in the Rebellions. But while they were a threat to us, they were no match for the turians, and they were reduced to a remnant. The asari advised us to reabsorb them into the Union, but we and the turians outvoted them.

"The lystheni were banned from Council space. They fled to the Terminus Systems and founded several colonies, which are now thriving. It was a lystheni salarian who founded Eclipse Securities – the company that was once one of the most feared mercenary groups in the Galaxy.

"Be aware, Captain Draal. The lystheni are better suited for and more skilled in direct combat than we are. But they still retain salarian intelligence and cunning. They are a dangerous people. Exercise caution in your dealings with them."

"It was our own fault." Na'Toth admitted. "But we didn't think there was any harm in it. The Dalatrass advised the Kha'Ri not to send any ships too far before we were introduced to the Council. That way, the salarians would be allowed to help us, as would other races if they chose to.

"But there was another site near where we found that black ship. A small fane or temple, with many writings and carvings, including a star map that showed the way to this place and the Black Temple. The university, and the Kha'Ri, saw no harm in a simple archaeological expedition.

"We came here in a freighter and landed in the shuttle. The freighter is supposed to come back for us in a weeks' time. There were only the four of us, and this shuttle was quite large enough for us to use as a base camp. Temperatures don't bother us greatly, so we would have spent most of the time outside.

"Anyway, we set off for the temple yesterday morning. It's quite a large complex, with a low wall around the compound, and a larger defensive wall around the building itself. But no sooner had we got inside the perimeter than we were ambushed.

"There must have been twenty or thirty of them, armed and armoured. We weren't wearing armour, and only one of us had a pistol. They fired one volley, then turned around and went back into the inner compound. They didn't even check to see we were all dead."

"How did you survive?" Marcus asked.

"I'm a telepath." Na'toth explained. "I sensed what they were going to do a second before they opened fire and I hit the ground straight away. I didn't even get time to warn my team. Telepaths have quicker reactions than non-telepaths, it goes with the mutation, I think."

Ivanova nodded. "Like biotics not being able to gain weight." She said. "Even when we don't use our powers, we burn twice as many calories as a non-biotic."

"If you say so." Na'toth told her. "Anyway, I laid there until dark, then came back here. I couldn't think of anything to do but wait until the freighter returned, then get them to send a cargo shuttle for me. I couldn't fly this one on my own, even if I were a trained pilot. It takes two to get it off the ground."

"Can you describe the people who fired at you?" Marcus wanted to know.

"Better." Na'toth told them. "We were recording video, I can show you!"

The recording followed the fairly long walk from the landing site to the temple complex. There was indeed a low wall of local stone around the complex, and a higher one of the same material further on. All that could be seen of the temple itself was a black dome rising above the inner wall.

There were gaps in both walls, but no gates. "We found the ruins of a metal gate around the gap in the outer wall." Na'toth explained. "The atmosphere and precipitation here are rather acid. It doesn't seem to affect stone too badly, but it looks as if exposed metal gets eaten away over time.

"There, that's them!"

A group of figures, wearing black armour but without helmets, suddenly ran into view and lined up.

"Freeze it!" Marcus commanded. "Nerab, can you enhance?"

"The equipment is digital, although a little out of date." The salarian said. "It should be possible."

"My god!" Marcus said as the image became clearer. "Those are batarians!"

"Are you sure?" Benezia asked.

"I don't know of any other race with four eyes except the protheans, and those aren't protheans!" Marcus told her.

That at least was true, Benezia knew. Javik did have four eyes – a large pair in the centre, with a smaller pair located one on either side of the main ones. This species had one large, wide-set pair, then just above them a smaller, close set pair.

"This was Hegemony territory, once." Nerab pointed out.

"True, but the Reapers came through here first." Drokk reminded him. "The batarians were pretty much wiped out by the first attack, and most of the survivors died in the battle over Earth a few months later. There aren't more than two or three thousand batarians in the Galaxy, now.

"So if these guys escaped or avoided the Reapers, why are they still here?."

"Interesting." Nerab interrupted. "Analysis of the armour they are wearing shows no resemblance to any known batarian types. However, it does resemble a more primitive version of the armour worn by drakh infantry."

"Well now that is odd!" Marcus remarked. "I doubt if it's a fashion choice! How many did Imogene say there were in that complex, fifty? We're a bit outnumbered, I think!"

"Maybe not so much." Larsus noted. "If they've been here since before the Reaper War, none of them can be young. Maybe those twenty are so are the only ones left fit to fight? Fifty isn't a breeding population, and if I recall my history lessons, batarians keep their women segregated and safe. Or they did before the war.

"If we can't talk our way past these ones, we might find ourselves with thirty or so elderly batarians to look after!"

"Oh, joy!" Ivanova remarked.

The ceremony for Falere had been simple and dignified. The Matriarch in charge of the monastery and her charges -a dozen white-robed ardat-yakshi – had sung a traditional asari funeral anthem. Justicar Samara had spoken simply and movingly of her daughters. A drell named Kolyat Krios had offered two prayers: one of thanks to Amonkira the Hunter, because Falere had died in battle; the other a poetic appeal to Kalahira, Lady of the Waters, to care for her devotee in death as she had in life. There had been a meal, then the Matriarch had given Samara the urn containing Faleres' ashes, to be placed in the family memorial on Thessia. "Normally, the ashes of our sisters remain here," the Matriarch had said, "but the circumstances and nobility of Faleres' passing deserve recognition."

Both Lorn and Mordin were in a reflective mood when they returned to the quarian frigate that had been placed at Lorns' disposal.

"So," Mordin said after a while, "how did you get to be a Spectre?"

"How does anyone?" Lorn asked. "They say at the induction ceremony that Spectres are born, not made, and that's almost true for me.

"You know about my grandfather, Kal'Reegar, he's a hero to quarians, turians and krogan. My father is his eldest son, and a Marine. He's a Colonel now, but he was only a lieutenant when he met my mother. She was the XO of a frigate in the Heavy Fleet – she's a Commodore now.

"I'm the youngest of three. My older brother was born on the Migrant Fleet, and they thought he'd be the only kid they'd be allowed to have. But then we got Rannoch back, and the Admirals relaxed the breeding restrictions, so along came my sister, then me.

"My brother, Dorn, joined the new Army that was formed after the Reaper War, when the new civilian government decided that if we had a planet, we needed infantry to protect it, not just Marines. Zala, my sister, followed mother into the Fleet.

"Me, I went back to family tradition, and joined the Marines. The Reegar are a military family, as you might have gathered. I was looking forward to as good a career as a Marine can have in peacetime when the Vorcha War blew up. I was involved in an action with some human troops and afterwards, I was offered N7 training."

"N7?" Mordin asked. "That's the elite of human soldiers, isn't it? Their equivalent of Aralakh Company?"

Lorn nodded. "After the Reaper War, the human military quietly opened up a few, invitation only, places for non-humans in the programme. Some turians and asari, even a krogan, had already been through it, but I was the first quarian. There'd been a lot of debate about whether or not I was physically up to it, but not all N7 training is physical, and they decided I had enough potential for the risk."

"How did it go?" Mordin asked.

Lorn laughed. "It was the most difficult, challenging and enjoyable time I've ever had! The first thing you learn there is to be a team. You're thrown into a squad, people from different places and backgrounds – soldiers, biotics, combat engineers, marines – all with different strengths and weaknesses. The trainers know that, they want you to work together, to help each other and bring out the best in all of you. Quarians learn to find ways around things that we can't tackle physically, and that's what I brought to the team. In return, they helped me up the mountains and across the rivers, and taught me enough dirty tricks to take down opponents twice my size!

"I made friends and saw some amazing things. Most of the training was on Earth, you see. That world has more different climate zones, biomes and terrains than almost any other inhabited planet. No wonder humans are so diverse compared to other races. I had a human boyfriend at the time, Dave, who was born on Earth, and during free time, he took me around and showed me the sights.

"Anyway, I made N7, then went back to the quarian marines as a training officer. Then by accident I came across a case of tech-trafficking."

"That happens all the time." Mordin noted.

"True, but when you share your homeworld with a race of AIs, it can get more serious." Lorn said. "These traffickers were stealing entire geth platforms, usually when they weren't being used. Then either installing Vis into them and selling them as slaves, or selling them off to people who wanted to take them apart and see what they could find.

"The geth themselves weren't bothered about the slavery – if one of those platforms gets within network range of running geth software, they just take it back. But geth tech is way ahead of most species, and some of it is damned dangerous! Plus there are some people out there – not quarians – who still feel the geth need to be destroyed. They were looking for ways to shut the entire Consensus down, or to hack and control it.

"This ring had laid a false trail that led back to Admiral Han'Gerrel. He was retired by then, but he'd never made any bones about regretting his decision to spare the geth. He said all their help was making quarians soft and dependent.

"But I found some evidence leading to the real culprits, and it went all the way up the new Civilian government. But nobody was listening, so I pulled together some people I could trust and went after the ringleaders. We got the proof we needed, but two of my people were killed and I took a few bullets myself. Next thing I know, I'm fresh out of hospital, standing in front of the Council, being made a Spectre! Only the third quarian to become one." Lorn shook his head. "Life takes you to some weird places, my large friend."

"Like Nova Roma?" Mordin asked. "According to the Comms officer aboard this ship, that's where most of the HYDRA messages were sent."

"Then that's where we go!" Lorn decided.

"Right on cue!" Ivanova murmured as Na'Toth held up her hand. The narn telepath had insisted on coming with them: "I can sense trouble ahead, now I know what to look for. Besides, I know the Shadow script and how to read their star-maps. You'll need me in there!"

So now she walked slightly ahead of Marcus, Benezia and Ivanova as they approached the inner wall. Her gesture meant she had detected the approaching batarians. Apparently, they didn't believe in a varied strategy, because they simply ran out, about two dozen strong, and lined up in front of the gate.

Still, it made things easy. Na'Toth hit the deck, as she was supposed to. Hawkeye uncloaked itself and Drokk, and Ivanova and the krogan charged the centre of the line.

The results were predictable. Batarians were scattered in all directions. Ivanova and Drokk cut loose with their shotguns, blasting their staggered opponents. Marcus and Benezia joined in with their biotics, while Larsus and Seera popped up out of cover to mop up the flanks. Nerab and Hawkeye advanced at double-time to cover the gate in case any more emerged.

"Clear!" Ivanova announced as the last batarian went down.

"Clear!" Nerab announced from the gateway.

"OK." Ivanova said. "I count twenty-three down. That makes around twenty-seven still in there. You getting anything, Professor?"

"More than twenty batarians." Na'Toth confirmed. "But only one seems to be aware of anything going on."

"Right!" Marcus said. "Benezia, take point. Drokk, watch the rear. Commander, you and I will look after the professor. The rest of you, stay loose and keep your eyes peeled. Move out!"

The temple wasn't all that impressive, Ivanova noted. A squat, square structure with a dome on top. Built of dull black stone, with no exterior decorations or windows, just a single, looming archway in the centre of the wall facing them. There were a few buildings, of local stone, built against the outer wall.

"Presumably," Marcus said quietly, "the guards live in those, as well as any priests and the people who look after the place."

Ahead of them, Benezia tensed, then raised her SMG to firing position.

"Don't." She said firmly. "I mean it. Just don't."

A bulky figure emerged from the shadows of a building. A batarian, in the same type of armour as the others had worn and carrying an assault rifle. He was old, Marcus could tell, his facial cartilages worn smooth with the years.

"You shouldn't be here." He said in a rusty voice. "The others?"

"All dead." Marcus said. "They didn't give us a choice. We don't want to kill you, old chap, so don't make us."

The batarian shrugged and laid his rifle on the ground, then dropped his pistol beside it.

"It's good that you killed them, the others." He said. "If what I've been thinking for the last seventy years is true, there'd be nothing out there for them.

"My name is Brak."

"What have you been thinking?" Marcus asked.

"That the Hegemony is gone, and most of my people with it." Brak said. "There's been no word, no replacements, for all those years. Comlink's dead, no ships to take away the old and sick and leave new troops.

"It's obvious something big happened. Human, asari, salarian, turian and krogan all wearing the same uniforms – that didn't happen even in the Blue Suns! A geth here, not trying to kill anyone. Some woman from a species I never saw or heard of.

"So what happened?"

"The Reapers happened." Ivanova told him. "They came through batarian space and wiped out the Hegemony before any of the rest of us realised they were here. I'm sorry."

"You're probably the only one, then." Brak replied without bitterness. "As a people, we didn't go out of our way to make ourselves liked.

"The Reapers, huh? I heard some human -Shepard, was it? Had a bee in his bonnet about Reapers. He was right, then. Shit. Are we all that's left?"

"There's two or three thousand of your people living on a colony in asari space." Benezia informed him. "They're being cared for, but they're dying out. The Matriarchs say it's because they want to.

"How many of you are there?"

"Twenty-seven, now the others are gone." Brak said. "Some are sick, and all of them older than me except Gorn. He got caught in the rain without a visor and the acid took all four eyes. He wanted us to kill him but we couldn't.

"I guess my people do want to die. Batarians don't do well in defeat. We're not a resilient people."

"Why are you here?" Ivanova wanted to know.

"To guard the Black Temple." Brak said. "There's been a force of fifty troops stationed here since we drove the drakh off this hell-hole. They used the temple, but we never have. Orders have always been the same: _Keep out of the Temple, and don't let anyone else into it!_ And just to curb curiosity, the penalty for a guard going into the Temple was immediate execution.

"But who gives a damn now? You want to go in there, knock yourselves out! I've got to look after my people."

"We'll send a message to the asari to come and get you." Marcus said. "At least then you can be with your own people. Are you OK for supplies?"

"Yeah, this place was designed to be self-sufficient." Brak allowed. "We've got a hydroponic set up and the local game is good eating once it's been salted down. We'll be OK until they come. Thanks."

He gave a curt nod, turned on his heel and went into one of the buildings.

"That's about as close to polite as batarians get." Marcus noted. "Right, this is what we came for, let's go."

The interior of the Black Temple was oddly free of dust, though a slight resistance as they came through the door indicated that a low-level force field was still active. Still, the air was stale, musty and cold, and an air of desuetude hung about the place.

The inside walls were not of the dull stone, but shining black marble, veined and streaked with gold. There were lamps, yellowy-white globes on black metal posts that shed an adequate, but not bright, illumination. There were no seats, and only one statue. On a five-stepped dais at the exact centre of the Temple stood a black metal statue of an insectlike figure.

"That's like the things we fought on Omega!" Ivanova said. "Are they the Shadows?"

"It matches the descriptions in some of the ancient texts." Na'Toth confirmed. "But I don't see any scripts or carvings here."

"Look up." Seera told her.

The dome was more brightly-lit than the rest of the temple, by a single large globe that hung down from the apex. Inlaid into the circumference of the dome in some kind of white metal was a precise star-map, charting a route through various Mass Relays -some uncharted -to a small, dark planet at the edge of the Galaxy.

"Z'ha'doum." Ivanova breathed. "We found it!"


	7. Chapter 7

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter 7**

Councillor Taron had been right about the lystheni, Draal realised. The man sitting opposite him was taller and more muscular than any salarian he had ever seen.

"You are Zarin Arrax, head of the Arrax Trading Company?" Draal asked.

"Yes." The voice was deeper, slower than Draal expected. "And you are Captain Draal, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. A Council Spectre in a place where the Councils' writ does not run."

"If you know who I am, you probably know why I'm here." Draal responded.

"I imagine," Arrax returned, "that you are somewhat annoyed at our attempt to assassinate you on Babylon 5. Five thousand credits that job cost us. I'm glad you survived."

"I'm surprised you pass off the loss of that amount so lightly." Draal gestured around the dingy office they sat in. "Unless this is what humans call 'shabby chic'?"

Arrax gave a grating laugh. "This is Omega, Captain. If you are going to flaunt wealth here, you have to be Aria. Anyone else becomes a target."

"For who?" Draal asked.

"Everyone." Arrax replied. "The human philosopher Diogenes would have wasted a lot of lamp oil here!"

The reference escaped Draal, but he ignored it for now. "So why are you glad I survived?" He wanted to know.

Arrax shrugged. "If the attempt had succeeded, you would have been beneath our notice. But it did not, and thus you are judged worthy to join us."

"To join the Unity Movement?" Draal enquired. "That seems a little extreme, for an organisation dedicated to Galactic peace!"

The grating laugh again. "The Unity Movement? They are a tool, pawns to be sacrificed in the larger game!" Arrax told him. "No, Captain, we are offering you the chance to become part of HYDRA!"

"And what, exactly, is HYDRA?" Draal demanded.

"Nothing more nor less than the future of the Galaxy!" Arrax announced. "It began on Earth, thousands of years ago, when some humans realised they were superior to others. Later, it was given a form and a name by a man named Johann Schmidt. HYDRA made many attempts to correct the course of human history, but the inferior were always too many. But now, the time has come. Soon, the whole Galaxy will stand ready to accept our rule!"

"You're working for human supremacists?" This was a shock to Draal, even knowing what he did of lystheni history.

Arrax shook his head. "Not human supremacists. HYDRA does not discriminate. It seeks out those who are superior among every race. Those born to lead, to command, those who are above petty morality and recognise only superior ability and the will to use it. Male, female, salarian, krogan, even hanar, it does not matter!

"Like all Spectres, Captain, you have superior abilities. There is so much more you could do, were you not bound by the restraints the Council puts upon even its elite agents. HYDRA would remove those limits, allow you to exercise your judgment as you see fit, to dispose of the venial, the dishonest, or those who are simply a waste of skin, and all without the dreary necessity of waiting for them to commit the inevitable wrongdoing.

"More, there are your people to consider. You are a Warrior-caste minbari. Surely like others of your caste, you chafe at being forced to accept foolish decisions made by slow-witted Workers and milksop Religious? Surely you know, deep in your heart, how your whole people would benefit from having the leadership and discipline of your caste imposed upon them?

"That is why we lystheni joined HYDRA. We are physically superior to other salarians. More, we live by a strict code and discipline while they scurry about obeying the whims of indulged and amoral women. Our people need us, and the changes we will bring to their corrupt and decadent society.

"What do you say, Captain?"

"I take it," Draal said, "that if I give the wrong answer, the two gentlemen standing behind me – yes, I heard them creep in – will make sure I don't leave here alive?"

"We are not quite ready to enter the public domain."Arrax explained. "If you were to give your word that you would not report anything I have said, then I personally would be prepared to let you go, We are both men of honour. But I suspect you must consider your duty to the Council as well, so sadly, you are correct."

Draals' long legs shot out, pushing Arrax' desk back to pin the salarian against the wall. The same movement tipped Draals' own chair over backwards. He rolled clear to come between his would-be assassins. Unlimbering his fighting pike, he swept the legs out from under one of them, then turned to the other. He rose as he thrust, adding the power of his legs to a strike that punched deep into his targets' abdomen. The salarian coughed up a gout of green blood and went down, Draal turned and crushed the skull of the other, who was scrambling to his feet.

Arrax had managed to push the desk away and was standing, pistol levelled. Draal hurled his pike like a javelin at the mans' face and as Arrax twisted aside to avoid the missile, Draal drew his own gun and fired once. Arrax slumped to the floor, bleeding from a wound in the belly.

Draal moved to stand over him. "Now, Mr Arrax, I think a quick shot of medi-gel is in order, followed by a long, quiet chat, superior man to superior man, yes?"

Arrax seemed to be grinding his teeth for a moment, then he spat "Hail HYDRA!", went rigid, and collapsed. Draal felt for a pulse and found none. His omni-tool confirmed death by fast-acting poison.

Minbari seldom swear, but the Warrior caste do have a soldiers' vocabulary, and Draal availed himself of a few select items from it. That over, he collected his fighting pike, downloaded as much data as he could from Arrax' computer, and left. Incidents of violence were far from rare on Omega, he knew. The Talons might make a cursory investigation before putting it down to a business deal gone sour.

Besides, Draal knew that he would have been identified as soon as he came aboard the station, and word about his Spectre status would have gone out. Aria T'loak had learned the hard way not to mess with Spectres, so it was unlikely that anyone would view his leaving with anything but relief.

The quarian frigate signalled Traffic Control on Nova Roma with the usual polite request for an orbital slot and clearance to send a shuttle groundside. The response, from a stern-faced human with close-cropped hair, wearing a red uniform, was unintelligible, but clearly unfriendly:

"Cave aliena navis!" He barked. "Hoc est planeta hominum. Hic non receperint vos. Statim relinquere!"

"Say what?" Mordin wanted to know. "Is your translator offline?"

"No, but theirs is." The Comms Officer said. "Give me a minute." She pulled up an extra display or two and got to work. "Keelah!" She said finally. "I had to go to the extranet to find the language. It's an ancient human one called Latin, only used for ceremonial purposes for most. Seems it was the language of the old Empire these guys base their society on, and they use it all the time. Guess they don't talk much, hey?

"Anyway, here's the translation, as close as I can make it: _Beware alien ship. This is a human planet. You are not welcome here. Leave at once_. Friendly people."

"Not so much." The Tactical Officer warned them. "This planet has more defensive platforms in orbit than Palaven! And every one in range of us just came online!

"We're being targeted from all sides. I'd say they really don't want us here!"

"Orders, Major?" The Captain asked.

"Come about and withdraw." Lorn ordered. "Nice and easy, let's not make anyone jump while they've got a finger on the firing button. We'll have to find another way."

"Major!" The Comms Officer called. "I have a message coming through on the QEC. High priority, encrypted, from the surface. Sir, it's on a Spectre eyes-only channel!"

"Patch it through." Lorn said, heading for the QEC room.

Quantum Entanglement Communication can't be traced, has no known range limit, and is usually only used for military or high-level diplomatic communications. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance have their own reserved QEC channels which are programmed into every Council race warship as well as Spectre offices and safe-houses. So whoever was calling either knew there was a Spectre aboard this ship, or was taking a chance.

The holographic image was of a human, middle-sized and stocky, with short-cropped, grizzled brown hair and a square-jawed, determined face. He appeared to be wearing a short red tunic with some kind of white robe draped around and over him

"Captain Jack Hallinger, Special Tactics and Recon." He introduced himself. "Known locally as Marcus Quintillius Hallina. Excuse the outfit, it's what we wear down here. I take it I'm addressing Major Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon?"

"You are." Lorn replied. "Lucky guess or is someone talking out of school?"

"Neither." Hallinger told him. "I'm on an extended undercover mission here. It was me who reported that the Night Watch are flavour of the month on this shithole, so when Councillor Alenko asked you to look into them, he briefed me. We both figured you'd be heading this way, and we knew you wouldn't be allowed to land here.

"We need to talk, Major. I'm sending you the coordinates of a station we can meet on. I'll see you there tomorrow. I can't say any more for now. The Praetorians can't detect this signal, but excessive power drain will get flagged up, so I have to go.

"Hallinger out."

"Good news?" Mordin asked as they headed back to the crew deck.

"Depends on your definition of 'good'." Lorn told him. "There's a Spectre working undercover down there, and he's arranged a meet."

"You want to handle it yourself, or shall I come along?" Mordin wanted to know.

"I may need somebody to watch my back." Lorn allowed. "Spectres have been known to turn….

"While I'm thinking about it, Mordin, why are you still here? Especially after what happened to Falere?"

"Sick of me already?" Mordin asked.

"Not me personally." Lorn said. "But the quartermaster and cook on this ship are going crazy trying to scare up enough levo food to keep a krogan from eating the rest of the crew!"

"Hurr, hurr, hurr." Krogan laughter always makes its' producer sound dim-witted, something very few krogan actually are. Then Mordin went on.

"I killed the thresher maw, you know."

"In your Rite of Passage?" Lorn asked.

"Yeah." Grunt affirmed. "Just like my father before me, and Uncle Grunt after him. A lot of people say that Grunt only succeeded because Shepard was part of his krantt, but when you ask them about me, they say 'like father, like son', or 'chip off the old block'. My brothers both survived the maw, but I killed mine. So I'm supposed to be the new Urdnot Wrex, the mighty, fearless clan-leader.

"That didn't suit me, and it didn't suit Dad. My grandfather tried to kill Dad, and Dad had to kill him in self-defence. That's why he left Tuchanka for so long, didn't go back until Shepard showed him that nothing's impossible. He went back to try and unite our people, and with the genophage gone, he's succeeding. He could live another thousand years, for all anyone knows, and so could I. No krogan we know of ever died of old age. If we weren't so keen on getting into fights, we might live forever.

"Now I don't want to fight Dad, and he doesn't want to fight me. He's a lot better leader than I would be, I'm too young still, don't know enough. But we krogan thrive on challenge. It's what drove the Ancients to create a civilisation almost before the asari did, but it's also what brought us down. Mom says we made life too easy for ourselves, so we looked for challenge in each other and it ended in a nuclear war that reduced Tuchanka to a wasteland and the krogan to a bunch of warring tribes.

"When the salarians uplifted us, they gave us the rachni as a challenge, and that worked for a while. But after they were gone, we took on the whole damn Galaxy and ended up with the genophage.

"So now, my generation are looking for new challenges. We're becoming scientists, engineers, explorers. Me, I was fascinated by literature – novels, plays, poetry. Everything the Ancients did, apart from some statues and wall-paintings, is gone. So I set myself the challenge of studying the literature of other races, and using that knowledge to create a literature for my people. I chose to start with humans because they have the most diverse heritage.

"But in doing that, I kinda forgot about being a krogan. Joining up with you and Falere was fun at first. I'm good at fighting, always have been. Also, I admired you both. Quarian history is almost as bad as krogan, you came within a breath of extinction and survived without a home, on the edge of Galactic society, for centuries. But now here you are, Lorn, a Council Spectre, and a damned good one! As to Falere, her own kind thought of her as a monster. She could never be a mother or a bond-mate, all she had was a monastery or being hunted down. Yet after all that, she was determined to do some good in the Galaxy, and she died doing it.

"That's what the turning point was for me, Lorn. When Falere was gunned down that way – out of pure viciousness, it didn't achieve anything – I felt rage. For the first time I felt the krogan rage my ancestors spoke of. So now I'm going to do what krogan do. I'm going to take my krantt – that's you, Lorn – and I'm going to hunt down the bastard who murdered my friend and I'm going to kill him!"

Matriarch Carina was a pureblood, and proud of it. In a society where exogamy and interracial breeding were positively encouraged, that made her a standout. It also made it a surprise that she had enough followers to earn her status. But as Carina herself was at pains to explain, it wasn't that she disliked other races. She respected and admired them entirely. She had been a Commando in the Battle of London, and had fought beside humans, turians, krogan and salarians, all of whom had earned her respect.

Carina just didn't think it was right to expect asari to mate with anyone but their own kind. She didn't like the prejudice against purebloods. It wasn't as if asari couples produced deformed idiots, after all. But what would be the consequences of the wholesale adoption of alien characteristics into the asari? You might be arguing with a perfectly normal-looking asari and suddenly find yourself on the floor or staring down the barrel of a gun because her father was a krogan! No, if the Asari Culture were not to fall into chaos, the government must be in the hands of purebloods. If the asari were to remain asari, a stand had to be taken.

Carina had tried. She had gathered enough like-minded followers to earn the status of Matriarch. A few small communities were doing things in the way she recommended, with senior positions closed to all but purebloods. But most of asari society was too open and accepting of difference.

"We're asari, not turians, Carina." They would tell her. "We celebrate diversity, we don't demand uniformity. We're all born of the same universe, after all."

Which was all fine and dandy, Carina mused, until your precious diversity blew your culture apart! Asari society could only remain asari if it were under the guidance and control of the pure-blooded. If she couldn't persuade them, she might have to take more direct action.

That decision had not come easily to Carina, but the human, Hugo Schmidt, had explained matters to her. He had shown her how, even in the short history of humanity, what he called 'mongrelisation' had destroyed great civilisations. How a man named Adolf Hitler had tried to create a society based upon selflessness, discipline and service to a greater ideal, but had been crushed by the individualistic greed of capitalism on the one hand, and the totalitarianism of Communism on the other.

"They will come for you, the mongrelised, as soon as they realise your ideas are a threat to their power." He had said. "You must be ready to defend yourselves. And there is an old human saying that attack is the best form of defence. HYDRA can provide you with the supplies and resources you need. We can also provide the support of members of other species who share our ideals of purity and service to the greater good."

So Carina had made her plans. She had gathered those she could trust, those she knew would be ready to act. They were here, now, seated around this room, waiting. Carina had received a message today through a channel only HYDRA knew. A Messenger was coming, one who would start them on the journey to the renewal of asari society, in blood if necessary.

The Messenger was tall, female, cloaked and hooded. She stopped in the middle of the room and spoke in clear asari tones. "You are Matriarch Carina?"

"I am." Carina replied.

"Are all here to be trusted?" The hooded figure demanded.

"I trust them all." Carina said firmly.

"Then it is decided!" Declared the messenger, and threw off her cloak.

That was when Carina saw the extent of her folly, her arrogance. Too late, and as the Justicar Samaras' Warp attack tore through her biotic shield like tissue paper, Carina realised that she was no more than an infection, and that all healthy living things have antibodies.

Samara had glided through the melee like a shadow. There had been veteran Commandos among the group, powerful and skilled biotics, but none had been a match for the Justicar. This nest of vipers had been cleansed, but there was more to do. There was always more to do.

Hallingers' coordinates took them to an abandoned mining station deep in the systems' asteroid field. Or at any rate, one that looked abandoned. Scanning showed that while the outer sections remained dark and cold, the extensive internal parts -where the refineries and processing plants had once been – were still active. There were also numerous ships in the area, not exactly hidden, but discreetly parked among the asteroids.

They were clearly expected, as a docking signal was immediately broadcast. Lorn and Mordin took the shuttle out and were guided to a carefully-concealed docking bay, where a courteous hanar directed them to where "your meeting" was to take place.

To get there, they passed through an area very similar to the Presidium Commons or Zakera Markets on B5. A place lined with shops, restaurants and so on. The crowds milling around were from various races. The volus and hanar were there in numbers, along with a few asari and salarians. But the majority were human. Some were obviously from various non-Alliance colonies, but most were clearly from Nova Roma. Men with short-cropped hair wearing knee length tunics, either in various shades of blue, or occasionally in red, and sandals that laced up to the knee. The wiry quarian and his massive companion earned a few curious looks, but nothing threatening. Among the other humans there were a number of military-looking types, so maybe there was nothing to be surprised about.

Their directions took them to an office building and ultimately to a spacious corner office where Hallinger was waiting for them. He welcomed them cordially and gestured to some seats set around a low table.

"Come in, take a load off!" He said cheerily. "There's snacks and drinks over there, help yourselves. I made sure to get some turian and quarian stuff, so you'll be fine, Major. The advantages of being a Patrician – I can get almost anything I want. I've also got the air scrubbers turned up, so you should be OK to take your mask off."

Mordin made a beeline for the food, of course, and amassed a huge plateful. Lorn, with instilled quarian frugality, contented himself with a fruit juice and a sandwich.

They sat down, and Lorn began by asking. "What is this place?"

"This place doesn't exist, not officially." Hallinger told him. "The law here forbids any Nova Roman from trading, dealing with or even speaking to a non-human. Trading with other human colonies is also restricted and heavily-taxed.

"But this area of space isn't all that rich, you know. An Empire looking to expand needs resources, an aristocratic upper class wants luxuries -exotic ones, preferably – and merchants don't like paying taxes any more than they have to. So this old mining station was bought up by a joint volus-hanar venture as a place where discreet trading can happen. As long as nobody overdoes things, the Senate ignores it – those who know about it, anyway.

"People who come here are used to seeing aliens – even the occasional krogan – and arms deals get done here, so nobody worries about military types.

"That said, Major, I did think you'd come alone. Who's your hungry friend?"

"Oh, sorry!" Lorn said. "This is Urdnot Mordin. He's been backing me up on this job. He's as effective as the average army, takes up less space, but he does require more feeding!"

"Urdnot Mordin?" Hallinger queried. "_The_ Urdnot Mordin? The one who wrote _Love, Loss and the Genophage_?"

Mordin contrived to look embarrassed. "Yeah." He muttered. "That was my first book. It was just a collection of interviews and anecdotes, and I wasn't much more than a kid when I wrote it. I didn't know anyone other than krogan ever read it."

"It made the best-seller lists on Earth and Thessia!" Hallinger told him. "My mother and sister both love it, they cried all the way through it."

Mordin muttered something and addressed himself more attentively to his food. Hallinger shook his head and grinned, then turned to Lorn.

"Right, you're going to need some background. Nova Roma was founded by people who admired the Romans, an ancient Empire that ruled most of Europe centuries ago. Do you know where Europe is?"

"I've been to Earth." Lorn said. "I've even visited Rome and seen some of the ruins and stuff. I know the basics."

"OK." Hallinger said. "OK, the current Imperator, Gaius Messanius, is an all-out human supremacist. It's he who put the laws in place forbidding any contact or trade with aliens. Before that, there'd been a special enclave where alien merchants could land and do business. He convinced the Senate and most of the Patrician class that the loss to our economy would be negligible.

"Predictably, that turned out to be untrue, but it wasn't the patricians who felt the bite, it was the Plebeians and the Proles, who were expected to increase production without putting prices up. Now in the old Roman empire, on Earth, they had slaves. Here on Nova Roma, they have mechs running on non-networked VIs."

"Smart." Lorn allowed. "Nobody wants another Morning War!"

"Right." Hallinger agreed. "Well, in order to keep the costs down, the Plebs started using more mechs and less Proles, so we end up with Proles not working and living on the small allowance the Senate gives out to the indigent and sick. They're not happy, because every Prole wants to become a Pleb, and to do that you have to make enough money to buy some land. But Proles don't get a vote, even for the Tribunes, so nobody cares, right?

"But then the mechs start to wear out. See, the Plebs kept mechs to do the heavy and dangerous work, but paid Proles to do the rest. So if a farmer, say, owned five mechs, he'd maybe only use three of them at a time. But now, he's using all of them, all the time. Maintenance cycles get lengthened, and the work gets done in a rush so the mech can get back to work. Patching instead of proper repairs, and so on. So now the mechs are failing.

"The problem is, that we're also running out of spare parts and second-hand mechs. Which would be fine if not for the no-contact, no-trade laws. No non-Alliance colonies manufacture mechs, about half of them won't even use them, and trading with the Alliance means having to make political concessions. Basically we'd have to give the Proles the vote and allow anyone to stand for Senate, which is against everything Nova Roma stands for. So if we want new mechs and spare parts we need to trade with the volus or hanar. But that's against the law.

"So the Plebs go to the Tribunes, and the Tribunes go to the Senate. But here has to be a minimum number of Tribunes, all bringing the same complaint, in order to force the Senate to act. Thirty or more to force a vote, all fifty to make the Senate change the law without a vote. Messanius knows this, and he's already brought the Night Watch in. By a mixture of force and bribery, he keeps the number of Tribunes complaining below the trigger number, while the Night Watch pick out the Plebs who are keenest on alien trade and make examples of them.

"So now the Plebs have to hire Proles, and because they're doing stuff that only mechs did before, they want more pay. Prices are going up and things are getting short.

"Then Messanius brings in a Decree that all Proles who have less than a certain amount in savings, or who earn less than a given amount, or who have debts above a certain amount, have to be enslaved. The Plebs don't like that, because slaves are more expensive than employees. You only have to pay an employee, and you can fire him if he doesn't work out. A slave has to be fed, clothed, housed and kept fit for work, you have to hire overseers, and a slave that won't work can't be sold off because word gets around and people won't buy him. So they go to the Tribunes again, and the Tribunes – those that still take their job seriously -speak to the Senate.

"The Senate has a month to challenge a decree and if that happens they get three tries to vote it down. Messanius is trying to use the Night Watch to intimidate the Senators, but that doesn't work because each Senatorial family patronises one or more Equestrian -military - family who have their own armed and trained 'retainers'. So the Watch are getting their asses kicked.

"If the Decree falls, so does Messanius , everyone holds him responsible for the mess we're in. There's a successor waiting in the wings, promising to restore interstellar trade and the economy while maintaining the integrity of Nova Roma. Also to turf out the Night Watch. His name's Lucius Gallinus, and he has enough support in the Senate and among the Tribunes to swing it if this vote goes against Messanius, which it almost certainly will."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad." Lorn noted.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Hallinger said. "But here's some surveillance footage taken at Gallinus' house yesterday."

The images on the screen showed a tall man with short, iron-grey hair and the profile of a hawk, wearing a purple tunic, in earnest but obviously cordial conversation with another, even taller, man with blond hair and hard, even features, wearing a black uniform. The man in the tunic was obviously Gallinus. The other…

"Hugo Schmidt!" Lorn breathed. "The head of the Night Watch! Doesn't Gallinus know who he's dealing with? Schmidt's been all over the extranet!"

"No extranet on Nova Roma, it's forbidden on pain of five years in the eezo mines, pretty much a death sentence." Hallinger said. "Everybody here thinks the Night Watch was started by Messanius himself, but he actually got the idea from a man called Mordenius, who disappeared shortly afterwards.

"This Schmidt character, from what my people in Gallius' household tell me, claims to represent an organisation called HYDRA, which is some kind of all-species elitist alliance looking to gain power among all the Council races and the associates."

"And here we were thinking the Night Watch was just a front for HYDRA." Mordin said. "Smoke and mirrors."

"There's more." Hallinger said. "I was hoping you could tell me something about this fellow! All we have is a name – Ulkesh. It was just a quick shot, he's very careful to stay out of sight, but we've enhanced it as best we can."

The detail was different, and the colour, but the configuration was unmistakable.

"That," Lorn said, "is a vorlon. One came to Babylon Five with the minbari delegation. He's called Kosh and he lives in the Minbari Embassy. That thing he wears, an Encounter Suit they call it, is a different colour and style from this one, but obviously they're the same thing.

"Now that's odd, because according to what we've been told, there are only fifty or so of these vorlons, they only have one ship, and all of them apart from Kosh live on Minbar!

"What's more, Kosh is heavily involved with the Unity Movement, which seems to me to be the exact opposite of HYDRA and the Night Watch.

"What do you reckon, Mordin, more smoke and mirrors?"

"If it gets any more complicated, it's gonna turn into a soap opera!" Mordin grunted.

"What's a soap opera?" Lorn wanted to know.

"Form of human vid entertainment." Hallinger told him. "Don't ask!"

Jeffrey Sinclair was running for his life. A few minutes before, he'd woken in his room at the seminary to blazing lights and an indescribable noise. Stumbling to the window, he'd been shocked into full wakefulness by the sight of a massive Reaper vessel touching down nearby. Father Superior had thought that the seminarys' isolated position, far from centres of population, would keep them safe, but it seemed he was mistaken.

Sinclair pushed his feet into his running shoes and threw a jacket on over his pyjamas. He could already hear the screams of teachers and students coming from the front of the building. No point running that way. He opened his window and scrambled onto the outer sill. There was a tree just to the left, and with a desperate, adrenalin-fuelled leap, he made it to the branches. He'd last climbed this old giant when he was thirteen, and he'd gained a few kilos since then, but the branches still supported him. Not knowing what else to do, Sinclair scrambled down and took off across country, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance between himself and the Reaper as possible.

But adrenalin can only carry you so far, and while the seminary encouraged healthy exercise, he was not at the peak of fitness. Eventually he had to stop, winded and with a burning stitch in his side. Then the Husks came, Reaper-created abominations that had once been human, loping out of the nearby woods toward him. This was the end.

Then there was a light in the sky. The Husks stopped and looked up, Sinclair followed their gaze. Some kind of ship hung in the air above them. It looked almost like a Reaper, with a long hull and arms at the bow. But this ship looked somehow organic, like a living thing, and the limbs looked like tentacles, rather than the jointed appendages of a Reaper.

As they all stared, the ship opened fire. Blasts of bright energy that vapourised the Husks closest to Sinclair. As the rest turned to flee, a form seemed to come though the hull of the ship and descend toward him. A form no theology student could mistake. Tall, slender, white-robed with magnificent wings and a face too beautiful to be human. The angel settled in front of him and put out a hand. There was a blaze of white light….

Sinclair was awake, heart pounding, in his apartment on Babylon Five. He lay there, confused. It was the old dream, the one that had pursued him for decades, the one that chimed with his memories of that night…Until now.

Always before he had awoken as the Husks came at him. The last image of the dream had been his last waking memory until the day he found himself joining a battle. But tonight, the dream had gone further than he remembered, the strange ship and the angelic figure were nothing he could remember encountering in waking life.

As he lay trying to make sense of things, his door buzzer sounded insistently. He checked his clock – three in the morning? It must be urgent, but why not use the comm system?

He climbed out of bed, pulled on his robe, went to the door and opened it. The figure on the threshold was the last one he had expected to see.

"It is time." Kosh said. "Come. Now."


	8. Chapter 8

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter 8**

The stealth frigate _Imogene_ slipped quietly into the unnamed system. The sun was small, red and dying, orbited by a single, dark planet and swarms of dust and asteroids.

"If I had to guess," Captain Eshra remarked, "I'd say this system, as well as the one with the Relay in it, had been in one Hell of a war. Background radiation is three times what it should be, even now. Sometime, a long time ago, those dust clouds were planets!

"Are you sure we can't be detected?"

"All stealth systems are fully active." The ships' AI responded. "We are safe from conventional detection."

"What about this telepathy thing?" Eshra wanted to know.

It was the Warsworn Pledgeshield, Nerab, who responded.

"Imogene and I have been working on that." He said. "Fortunately, a lot of the basic work had been done. Task Force Aurora did a lot of work on the artefacts, the Enthrallment Spheres, used by the Leviathan to mind-control other races. They figured out that telepathy works more like Quantum Entanglement Communication than radio or other wave-based systems. They tied that in with some krogan and asari research on rachni communication.

"We already knew that some shield harmonics can block Leviathan signals and Reaper indoctrination. We also had the work Mordin Solus did for Cerberus on blocking Seeker swarms. We put it all together and developed a shield modulation that should block telepathic detection. Fortunately, it doesn't require excessive amounts of power, so it can be built into the shields on standard armour as well as the ship.

"I have to warn you, though, we can still be physically seen. If one telepath sees us, every other telepath within his range will know where we are, and that knowledge will spread fast!"

"Good!" Marcus said. "Use the QEC to send the specs back to Kronos. The Commander will get a copy to the Shadow Broker, and they'll see to it that the Council races get them.

"Imogene, what about the planet? It doesn't look like much."

"It does not." The AI replied. "The surface is barren, mostly ash and rock. Background radiation is higher than it should be, likely the result of nuclear bombardment centuries, if not millennia ago. There is no discernible atmosphere.

"However, deep scans show complexes of tunnels and caves underground. These do appear to have an atmosphere, and I detect power generation. There are also life-signs in significant numbers, of differing species. I cannot give any more detail as the level of surface radiation is interfering with the sensors.

"I have located a cave with an airlock system that links into the tunnel complexes, but at some distance from centres of population. You may be able to enter there undetected."

"Sounds good." Ivanova said. "We can go and take a look, at least. Get an idea of what we're up against."

Marcus nodded. "Eshra, put us in orbit, not too close. Prep the shuttle and let's go and have a butchers'."

"A _what_?" Larsus asked.

"Butcher's hook, look." Marcus said patiently. "Cockney rhyming slang."

"What planet do cockneys come from?" Seera wanted to know.

"The planet Cock, we infer." Hawkeye told her.

Ivanova made the mistake of catching Benezias' eye, and the inevitable fit of giggles rendered Marcus' explanation inaudible to either of them.

Kosh had reluctantly allowed Sinclair time to dress, before leading him, via side-corridors and unfrequented paths, to the rear of the Temple of Athame. There, in a small meeting room, Matriarch Tulina and a turian awaited them. The turian was a veteran Major called Reikus Oraka, Sinclair had swapped tales with him a few times, but found the man a little intense.

Unusually, it was the vorlon who spoke first, saying to Sinclair. "You dreamed tonight."

"I did." Sinclair replied.

"You have dreamed this before." Kosh pursued.

"Often." Sinclair admitted. "But this time was different…."

"You saw more." Kosh told him. "You saw that you were chosen. Chosen for a purpose. Now it is time."

"Colonel," Tulina said, "I suppose I need not explain to someone of your background what the Knights Templar were?"

"No." Sinclair said. "I am familiar with the history of the Order."

Tulina nodded. "then you will know that they were instituted to protect pilgrims – people of faith on a journey to seek peace and the truth.

"Colonel, the Unity Movement is on such a journey, and as those long-ago pilgrims were, so are we in danger of violence. The human Night Watch are not the only group who wish us ill. There are turians, salarians, krogan, even some asari, who would see us destroyed.

"We have been forced to set up our own defence force, our Templars, to counter these threats, or even to take pre-emptive action. There are many veterans among our members, and most of them have volunteered. Major Oraka has been coordinating this for us up to now, but he tells me that a different commander is needed. "

"I'm a good enough tactician," Oraka explained, "but not much of a strategist. That's why I never made general, as my father did. But I know your record, Colonel, and you're a Hell of a strategist. We need you!"

"More than that." Tulina added. "You are trained as both priest and soldier, a Crusader, and this is a crusade!"

"You were chosen for this." Kosh said. "You must not fail in your destiny, or all else fails with you."

Sinclair looked around him. "I'm an Alliance officer." He said.

"You are." Tulina agreed. "But we do not ask you to change your allegiance. You will be acting as much for your own people as for us – the interests of our Movement are the interests of the whole Galaxy. If anyone asks, your role with us will be advisory, and voluntary."

"I need some time." Sinclair told them.

"Then you shall have it." Tulina said.

"But not too long." Kosh warned.

"I'll walk back with you, Sinclair." Oraka said. "There's some things I'd like to talk about, soldier to soldier."

The message from Hallinger was brief and to the point. "Messanius committed suicide last night -the accepted way for an Imperator to resign, if he wants to avoid disgrace. Gallinus will be proclaimed tomorrow.

"But the reason I called is that Schmidt and his pet vorlon are leaving tonight. They're taking a shuttle to a frigate hidden in the same belt you are. According to what my people tell me, he's heading for Earth. I've had a tracer put on the shuttle – here's the frequency.

"Good luck and keep me in the loop."

"I can't take you to Earth." The quarian Captain said apologetically. "I mean, you can order me to, but this ship won't make it, we're way past our required service date and our core is decaying. We need to get back to Rannoch.

"We have to go past Babylon Five to get home, though. If I drop you there, you should be able to hop an Alliance ship to Earth."

"That'll have to do, then." Lorn allowed. "We've got the tracer, so unless somebody finds it, we won't lose them."

Nerab had got them through the airlocks security system, and disabled the surveillance system for the area.

"This is primitive." He'd remarked. "But I suppose telepaths don't think they need up-to-the-minute tech to detect intruders."

"Over-confident." Ivanova commented.

"This place smells wrong." Drokk complained. "Old, cold, dry and musty, like a mummy."

"It must be the right place, though." Benezia noted. "Every instinct I have is screaming at me that we're in danger here."

"And this is a good thing?" Larsus asked.

"Given our mission, yes." Marcus told him. "Benezia?"

"Hawkeye, take point," the young asari ordered, "Larsus and Seera back him up. Nerab and I have the flanks, Drokk…"

"I've got your backs." The krogan responded. "You only put me at the back because if I had point, none of you would get a shot in!"

"Move out!" Marcus ordered.

The first few corridors and chambers were empty, abandoned, but then they saw a doorway ahead out of which came a brighter light and a low hum of active tech. Hawkeye raised a hand to halt the group, then looked over its shoulder to give the traditional "I'll take a look" gesture. Activating its tactical cloak, the geth vanished from view.

A few moments later, Hawkeyes' voice came through the comlinks. "Area safe." The squad moved into the room. It was large, but not overwhelmingly so. At the centre was a console of some kind, while around the walls were a groups of large tubes or…

"Clone tanks." Marcus stated. "If memory serves, this is the same or similar tech to what Saren and later the Warlord Okeer used to create artificial krogan."

"Not krogan in them, though." Drokk reported. "Look, four groups of twelve with identical clones in them. Human, turian, asari and vorcha. Why only those races?"

"Availability of genetic material?" Marcus hazarded.

Ivanova shook her head, she was using her omni-tool. "I don't think so." She said. "Look, this human -the Spectre files tell me that his name is Morden – he's a former Cerberus operative who disappeared after the war, then popped up on Babylon Five a year or so back. He was a front man for the Shadows, he was supposed to have been killed, but he's been reported since on some human colonies, doing the same thing.

"The turian is called Sartorius – he used to deal with potential clients for the Blue Suns, a salesman, not a soldier. He disappeared during the war, too. But he's turned up on turian colonies recently, encouraging separatists.

"Nothing on record about the asari or the vorcha, but I'd bet a months' pay that the backgrounds are similar.

"Why these races? I'd say it was because they're the only ones that can be used this way. None of the associate races are influential enough, but some people won't listen to a Council species at all, hence the vorcha. Salarians are too short-lived to make re-using the same clone practical. Quarian society is too close-knit still for someone to just turn up and be trusted. As for krogan, not only are they nearly impossible to clone properly, but they don't take kindly to being conditioned – they can't be controlled."

"Tell that to a krogan woman!" Drokk observed wryly.

"Either way, I don't see how we can just leave this place functioning." Marcus said. "I doubt they have a lot of this tech lying around – most of it came from the Reapers via the Collectors, so unless they stockpiled a whole lot of it, which is doubtful, the Shadows won't be able to replace it in a hurry.

"Blowing it up would be noisy, and we don't want to draw attention just yet, or at all if we can avoid it. Anyone got any ideas?"

"I can reprogram the central computer." Nerab told them. "I've been checking it out. It's stand-alone, not networked, and the only back-up is local, on the same hardware.

"I can reprogram it to stop life-support and switch to preserving the bodies. That way, nobody will notice until they come to wake one of them up. I can reprogram the back-ups as well."

"Won't they be able to reprogram it back?" Seera asked.

Nerab grinned, as much as a salarian can. "I'll put in a failsafe, Any attempt to alter the program after I've done will wipe everything, all the hard drives and back-ups. Shall I go ahead?"

"Do it!" Marcus and Ivanova said simultaneously.

"They'll be finishing each others' sentences next." Seera prophesied to her brother.

For some reason, Ivanova and Marcus avoided eye contact for a while.

"Look, Sinclair, I know you're not comfortable with me, but I can't help the way I am." Major Oraka said. "For the record, this whole soldier-philosopher thing you've got going ruffles my crest as well, but this is too important for us to bother about liking each other."

"You're that dedicated to these Templars?" Sinclair asked.

"The Hell I am!" Oraka replied. "I'm a turian, and my people come first. This Unity Movement, most of them are good people, and I'm all for increasing understanding between the races. If we don't, the Council will fall apart and it'll be back to the bad old days, with all the races at each others' throats.

"But if I'm any judge, Colonel, you're as much Alliance as I am turian, and that makes me wonder if you're involved in this for the same reason I am."

Sinclair stopped and looked at the man. "You're a spy for the Hierarchy?" He asked bluntly.

Oraka gave a bark of laughter. "Colonel, the turians don't have real spies, any more than the salarians have real soldiers!" He said. "The closest a turian comes to a spy is a soldier out of uniform and the closest the salarians get to a soldier is a spy with an assault rifle.

"I'm in the Blackwatch, a Special Forces unit, so I'm used to keeping my mouth shut. I was, am, genuinely interested in the movement, and the Hierarchy doesn't care what we do in our personal lives as long as we do our jobs properly. But when this whole Templar idea was suggested to me by Tulina, I reported back to my CO. He told me to go along with it and keep my eyes open.

"Now, I'm willing to bet that you're doing the same. Your interest is genuine, but you're the senior Alliance Army officer on this station, and it's pretty much an open secret that you're seeing the asari Councillor. Tulina is too naïve to think anything's wrong with that and who knows what the vorlon thinks, but I figure you're keeping an eye on things. Tell me I'm wrong?"

"No point." Sinclair admitted. "I'm surprised I haven't been bounced out already. But now they're offering me command of…what? A security unit? A private army? A terrorist outfit?"

"I don't know, not for sure." Oraka admitted. "I think Tulina believes it's just for protection. But there are others who want it to be more proactive -to take down threats before they crystallise into actual attacks. But that's not what worries me – they'll never recruit enough to make these Templars a threat on a planetary scale. No, it's some of the people who've joined it. There's a clique, a cabal, inside the force that have their own agenda, and I don't trust them.

"Now I don't have any official standing on the station, but you do. It wouldn't be too hard for you to make some discreet enquiries about this group. If we can find out what they're up to, and whether they've penetrated other parts of the Movement, we might be able to head off a disaster.

"So are you with me, Colonel?"

"Yes." Sinclair told him.

The Military Docking Area on Babylon Five was the definition of organised chaos, which put it one up on the Civilian Docking area, which was total chaos. Fortunately, the phrase 'Council Spectre' opened doors everywhere, so Lorn and Mordin were able to request passage to Earth on one of the fastest available Alliance ships – the frigate _Iwo Jima_.

As they approached the berth, they saw Captain Traynor talking with a towering warrior-caste minbari. They came up and introduced themselves, only for the minbari to break in:

"Major Reegar? Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon?" He asked. "It's an honour to meet you, Major. Captain Draal, Special Tactics and Recon."

"Captain, I've heard of you." Lorn replied. "The first minbari Spectre. I'm surprised you've heard of me, though!"

"You shouldn't be." Draal said. "I've made a point of studying the records of Spectres past and present. You've more than made your mark, Major!"

"I'm no Commander Shepard, you know." Lorn told him.

"Shepard…_was_…a unique individual." Said a new, but familiar, voice. "If you must compare yourself to him, Lorn, you will set yourself an impossible goal and belittle your own considerable achievements."

Lorn turned. "Samara?" He said. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon!"

"Nor I, you, my young friend, but it seems our investigations have led us to the same place more quickly than we assumed." Samara replied.

"The Justicar has also requested passage to Earth." Traynor informed them. "Since members of her Order rarely venture beyond asari space, I presumed that the matter was important, and was happy to help."

"Am I right in assuming that we are all following different trails to the same quarry?" Draal asked.

"If we're not," Mordin told him, "then it's a coincidence too weird to be put in a book, even if I wrote it!"

"You can talk about it aboard." Traynor said firmly. "Our departure slot is in fifteen minutes, so you'll need to get your gear stowed away."

Marcus and his team had expected large chambers, perhaps, and a maze of tunnels, but not this! They had emerged onto a small balcony, cut from the raw rock some ten metres above a bowl-shaped depression that was itself part of a massive ledge in a cliff that formed one wall of a cavern that was kilometres high and even more across. In the distance, perhaps half a kilometre away, was the edge of a city that began at the lower slopes of the cliff and extended as far as the eye could see.

"OK, this is weird!" Larsus observed. "What's the matter with those buildings?"

The city was built from ash-grey rock, clearly cut from the surrounding walls, The buildings ranged from low, single-storey structures to massive domed edifices and bizarre towers. All were windowless, and all seemed to follow the rules of a geometry radically different from that of any other race. Ivanova was reminded of work by the artist Escher that she had seen as a teenager, with a dash of Dali thrown in. Looking at the place made her feel vaguely dizzy and nauseous.

Fortunately, there was something nearer to hold the attention. The bowl beneath them was filling with creatures. Man-sized black praying-mantis shapes with triangular heads. "The Shadows themselves!" Marcus whispered. "There must be thousands of them!"

"Millions, by the size of the city." Benezia noted. "Even if it's only half inhabited. What are they doing?"

The Shadows were entering the bowl down rock-hewn staircases, one to the left, another to the right. They were talking among themselves, and the bowl must have been a natural amphitheatre, because the sound of their rustles, clicks and scrapings came clearly to the team. Imogene, the ships' AI, was linked into their suit computers, and now she announced: "Translation software running."

It took some time for the bowl to be filled. More than enough time for Imogene to crack the language. But all that drifted up to them from the crowd were scattered words and sentences of oddly everyday conversation. Ivanova realised that, like every other race, the majority of these Shadows must simply be people. People with jobs to do and families. People who were hell-bent on destroying the society and civilisation she was sworn to protect.

Then the area immediately opposite the balcony, which was overshadowed by a beetling ledge of rock, was suddenly illuminated. The light revealed an altar on which rested…_something_. A matt-black mass, perhaps a metre across, of unknown material. What was unique about it was that it was in a state of constant change. It might assume the form of a living being, a ship, a building, or something wholly unidentifiable, but never for more than a few seconds. It was hard to look at, but even harder to turn away from.

The crowd fell silent, then slowly parted as a single Shadow made its way toward the altar. This one looked no different from any of the others at first. Then Ivanova realised that it was moving with a steady deliberation unlike the rapid scuttle of the majority. Whether this gait was ceremonial, or indicative of extreme age, she couldn't tell.

The Shadow stopped before the altar and raised its arms. It's voice, translated by their armour, came clearly to them.

"Azathoth, Lord of Chaos, rolling eternally at the Centre, lulled by flutes and drums, we dedicate ourselves to your service.

"Yog-Sothoth, you who are the Key and the Gate, admit the souls of the Fallen who die in service to Chaos. Open to them and admit them into the Centre and the Manifold Oneness that is Azathoth.

"Nyarlathotep, Crawling Chaos, the Soul and Messenger who walked among us in ancient times to teach us the Way, shine the bright darkness of your wisdom upon us, lest we become lost.

"The Cycle has been broken, and a new power rises. Loyal to neither Law nor Chaos, but ever seeking the middle way between. Their name is Humanity, and their coming presages the prophesied Age of Balance, when neither Law nor Chaos shall be dominant.

"This must not come to pass. Already the renewing flame of conflict burns low. War, the avatar of Chaos, the crucible of Change and Growth, has become the tool of Law. Now instead of relentlessly crushing the weak and seeking the next enemy, the races of the Galaxy seek only to blunt aggression, then to bring the resistors into their own order.

"Our servants, the drakh and the batarians, have failed in their purpose. The krogan betray us and turn to Law. The created make peace with their creators, such a thing was never before seen.

"Even the Reapers, who should have ended the Cycle and permitted us to begin anew, have fallen. We must turn this Cycle to Chaos or end it ourselves.

"We must go to the heart of the greatest threat. We must turn Humanity away from Balance, so that the Universe may evolve as it should, in war, in terror, in Chaos!"

They might have learned a good deal more, if not for a sudden yell of alarm from behind them, followed by the deafening roar of Drokk's shotgun.

"That's torn it!" Marcus shouted. "Move! Back to the shuttle!"

They went, fast. They'd hoped that by moving out of sight, they would foil their telepathic pursuers. It almost worked, but the Shadows knew their complex too well, and had deployed squads to block the paths. Fortunately, they were only squads, groups for five or six, and the Warsworn were more than a match for them. They were also fortunate that both Marcus and Benezia were Adepts, as the Shadows once again proved exceptionally vulnerable to biotic attacks.

It was in the cloning chamber that the first setback occurred. A Shadow had managed to get behind Ivanova unnoticed, and was about to spring on her. Marcus shouted a warning and flung himself at the creature. There was a short, nasty struggle before the Oathblade flung the thing off him with a burst of dark energy that crushed it against the ceiling before slamming it to the floor.

Marcus dragged himself to the console and sat up against it, pulling off his helmet and cursing fluently. Ivanova flew to him.

"Are you OK?" She demanded. "What did you do that for, you idiot?"

"You were about to have your head chopped off." He growled. "I know you don't use the bloody thing, but you look better with it attached!

"This leg's done for, I think. Prop me up where I can cover the door and get going. I'll delay them."

Ivanova had already triggered her omni-tool. "Bad, but I've seen worse." She announced. "There, the medi-gel should stabilise it until we can get you to Sickbay." She took off her helmet. "And if that won't get you on your feet, maybe this will!"

She grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him with as much savagery as tenderness.

"Not the time or place." Nerab pointed out.

"Fascinating exercise in morale-boosting." Hawkeye remarked.

"Get a room, guys!" Drokk said.

Benezia saw Larsus hand Seera a credit chit, and smiled to herself.

It seemed to work, because Marcus dragged himself to his feet with Ivanovas' help. They both resumed their helmets – whether for protection or to hide their blushes, Benezia didn't know.

"We'll discuss this later." Marcus promised.

"In depth." Ivanova replied.

But they had been slowed, and as they approached the airlock, it was clear that pursuit was close behind.

"I have charges." Nerab announced. "I can blow this tunnel – they'd have to find another way around -but it will take time."

"Do it!" Benezia ordered. "Drokk, stay and cover him!"

Nerab worked fast, as only a salarian can, but the first of the pursuers were there before he was half-through. Fortunately, there were only a dozen of them, no match for the krogan. Drokk had a merry time of it, for a while – the Shadows not so much.

But then, Drokk heard the rest coming.

"Nerab, hate to hurry you, pal, but there's more coming than even I can hold off for long!"

"Almost done!" The salarian announced. "Get going! I'll finish here!"

Drokk took off. He was almost to the airlock when he realised Nerab should have caught up with him by now. He turned back at once, to find his squadmate still near the explosives.

"Nerab!" He yelled. "We gotta go, buddy!"

Nerab turned round. "Remote detonator damaged." He said. "Have to do it manually, have to stay here." His eyes locked with Drokks'. "Go tell the Spartans." He said, then turned back and triggered his omni-tool. Drokk swore, but he could see the Shadows coming up beyond Nerab, and knew his salarian friend would be angry if he didn't at least try to save himself.

"Sworn to War!" He shouted back, then turned and ran. Only just in time, the force of the blast nearly blew him out of the tunnel. He made it to the shuttle.

"Nerab?" Benezia asked, as if she already knew the answer.

Drokk shook his head. "He had to detonate manually, no chance. Little pyjak had a quad, always thought so. He said 'Go tell the Spartans', whatever that means."

"I know." Marcus said. "No time to explain right now. We have to get out of here!"

They made it back to the _Imogene_, but the black ships were already beginning to spiral up from the surface of Z'ha'doum.

"Get us out of here!" Eshra ordered. "If we can get to the Relay…!"

"Hostile ships ahead!" The pilot shouted. "Brace for evasive manoeuvres!"

The ship lurched violently, and Eshra was a shade too slow in reacting. She was thrown back against a rail, her neck snapping audibly.

"Dammit!" Ivanova swore." Marcus was still in Sickbay. "Spectre takes the Conn!" She called. "Orders stand. Get us the Hell out of here!"

"Warning!" The AI stated. "We are surrounded. Insufficient space for acceleration to light speed. We need to get past them!"

"Joker, where are you when we need you?" Benezia murmured.

"Joker?" Seera asked.

"He was the pilot on my Dads' ship." Benezia said. "He was crazy, but he could fly like nobody else!"

The telepathic shielding made long-range targeting impossible for the Shadow ships, and they had no windows or viewscreens, apparently. But they did seem to be equipped with proximity sensors, which made slipping between their close-packed ranks difficult.

Still, the pilot tried, and for a moment, they thought they'd made it, but then a black ship turned and fired. Only a glancing blow, but the damage was done.

"Shields down!" Imogene announced. "They can see us!"

"Run for it!" Ivanova snapped. "Get me light-speed!"

"Abort!" The AI countered. "Another fleet dead ahead! They are not Shadow ships. Repeat, not Shadows."

"Then what the Hell are they?" Marcus limped out of the elevator to stand next to Ivanova.

"Analysis confirms rachni profiles, in excess of a hundred vessels, mostly Dreadnought class. Also at least ten Leviathan."

"Leviathan?" Ivanova wondered. What were the ancient beings who had created the Reapers doing here and now?

As if in answer, everything around her went cold and dark. Then a dim light appeared. She was standing in an empty space, the only solid thing the wet floor beneath her boots. A figure emerged from the dark and came toward her. Her father.

"It's all right, Susan." He said. "We haven't come to harm you. This is the only way we can communicate with you young ones."

Then he was gone, and Jack stood there -the super-biotic who had begun Ivanovas' Spectre training.

"These are the bastards who corrupted our Solution." She told Ivanova. "Some of them anyway. They and the others screwed with the programming so the Reapers would clean the slate every fifty thousand years so they could start their fucking games again!"

"They drove the thrall races to war with each other." This was Commander Vega, her other training officer. "It messed up the tributes, we had to find new races to serve us. When we created the Solution, we meant it to stop that happening, but they messed that up too. We mean to make them pay, now you found them for us."

Nerab blinked at her. "We will never dominate again." He said. "But when this is done we'll return beyond the rachni relay. The Queens served us before the Reapers corrupted them, and they remember their old allegiance. We will not come this way again. Whatever we leave on our old world is yours. Use it well."

Then Ivanova was on her knees, with Marcus beside her. Something warm and wet was trickling over her upper lip, and she tasted the iron-salt tang of blood before Marcus pressed a tissue to her nose.

"What happened?" He asked. "You stared into space for a moment, then your nose started bleeding and you went to your knees!"

"The Leviathan." She said. "They spoke to me. They and the rachni have come for the Shadows. They said we found this place for them."

Then the corpse of Eshra spoke. It was her voice, but seemed to come from a distance.

"This one has been our eyes and ears for centuries." She intoned. "We saved her life and in return she permitted us to see and hear all she heard and saw. When we knew your mission, we spoke to the Apex, and they summoned us to aid you.

"Today we will end the Great Discord. Then we will return to our home. We will serve the Apex as before, and the rachni will sing without fear of sour notes or discord."

"Attention!" Imogene said. "The rachni and Leviathan are attacking the Shadows!"

"Give us a visual!" Ivanova ordered, getting to her feet.

It was less a battle than a massacre. The Shadows fought valiantly, but seemed able to do little damage to their adversaries. The rachni ships were large vessels, disturbingly similar to the ones used by the Collectors, but expanded to Dreadnought size. They were clearly heavily armoured and shielded, shrugging off the Shadows' slicing beams and responding with more powerful beams of their own, each hit shattering a black ship.

The Leviathan, huge organic analogues of the Reapers they had created, constantly emitted a field that drained energy from everything around them. Weapons fire faded out before it could touch them, and every ship that came close was rendered inert, to be leisurely torn apart by the great tentacles of the Leviathan.

Ponderously, without hurry, the invading fleet destroyed the Shadow ships before passing on to Z'ha'doum itself. There the rachni ships englobed the planet and began bombarding the surface with massive bombs that somehow ignited the very rock itself. The Leviathan descended into the inferno, untouched by the fires, to wreak whatever havoc they had planned on the world below.

"This isn't really allowed, you know." Said an unfamiliar voice. Turning they saw a figure standing in the Captains' position above the Galaxy map. A tall and very beautiful asari in the formal uniform of a Justicar.

"They shouldn't be directly confronting each other, the Shadows and Leviathan." She went on. "But the Leviathan never agreed to the treaty -they never even turned up -so I suppose that legally, there's nothing to be done. Not that we would anyway, the Leviathan have suffered enough, even if they won't admit it. Stiff-necked bunch."

"Excuse me." Marcus said. "But who the Hell are you?"

"You can call me Q." She replied. "I'm a First One, like the Shadows and Leviathan and a few others. I've been keeping an eye on this situation, and I really should have made the Leviathan stay at home and let the rachni do their dirty work. I suppose I'm too empathic -manifesting as an asari will do that to you. Anyway, I chose to let the Leviathan get their revenge. Worth it, if it gets them out of this quadrant, I was sick of them sulking there.

"Look, not all the Shadows have been killed. They've been severely weakened, and with Z'ha'doum gone they'll never recover. But there's still enough out there to be dangerous. Also, they're not the last, or the worst, of the First Ones. There's another lot around who are a much bigger threat.

"Now I've told you more than I'm supposed to – you can blame _Her_ for that, she nags a lot – but don't ask me any more, or we'll all be in trouble.

"Bye!"

And with that, she vanished.


	9. Chapter 9

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter 9**

"You are sure about this?" The Dalatrass asked.

"That's what Arrax told me." Captain Draal replied. "Obviously, I don't know if he actually spoke for all lystheni, he just claimed to. There was a good deal of data on his computer, and I've forwarded all that concerns lystheni and salarians generally to STG headquarters."

"That has been noted, Captain, and thank you." The Dalatrass said. "We should have done something about the lystheni a long time ago, but between politics, prejudice and embarrassment, we've never managed.

"Our lives may be short, Captain, but our memories are long. There are still those among us who are angry at the curing of the genophage, even though no living salarian was around when it happened!

"I imagine this HYDRA have offered to give the lystheni a cure for Hard Shell Syndrome."

"Hard Shell?" Draal asked.

"We are an egg-laying species, Captain." The Dalatrass explained. "But our eggs do not have shells, as such, unlike the vorcha. The embryo and yolk are encased in a flexible membrane which is water-permeable -they must be incubated in water. In rare cases, perhaps one in a hundred thousand, a salarian woman will produce an egg that has a hard shell. This is fatal to the embryo, as it dehydrates, but it also damages the womans' cloaca, rendering her unable to lay again and usually necessitating the removal of her ovaries.

"The lystheni have adapted to laying eggs in cooler water than ordinary salarians, so their membranes are thicker. As a result, the incidence of Hard Shell is greatly increased among them, to perhaps one in a hundred. It is why they fertilise half their eggs, rather than the ten per cent we do, and why their population is still smaller than ours.

"Some lystheni blame us for it, claiming we 'did something' to their genes. That's why they sided with the krogan in the Rebellions.

"We had so hoped the lystheni problem would go away, but it seems we must 'bite the bullet' as humans say, and deal with them.

"Thank you again, Captain."

Draal left the QEC room and went to the Crew Lounge. Unsurprisingly, his fellow Spectre, Lorn'Reegar, was there, along with the krogan, Urdnot Mordin, and the asari Justicar. As Draal approached, the quarian Spectre was pushing his plate away with a sigh.

"One thing you can rely on the Alliance for." He said. "Their ships always have plenty of decent food, whatever your chirality!"

"It surprises me that quarians can still digest solid food." Samara remarked. "I only ever saw Tali eating from those tubes of vegetable paste."

"You wouldn't have spent any time on the Migrant Fleet." Lorn told her. "In our own quarters, we were able to remove our masks and eat solid food. But as a race, we've been vegan so long that the notion of eating meat is still a touchy one. Some of our younger folk have taken to eating a certain amount of meat, so we know there're no digestive issues. It seems as well that the ones who do are going to be taller and heavier than the average quarian has been for centuries!"

"I don't think any quarian will ever get to be as big as a krogan." Mordin noted. "So I'm not worried.

"Grab a seat, Draal. Food's good if you're hungry. How did the Dalatrass take your news?"

"She's worried, and I don't blame her." Draal replied. "These lystheni are dangerous, and if enough of them have gone over to HYDRA, they're going to be a problem. One the rest of us will expect the Salarian Union to sort out."

"So how come you're hunting HYDRA?" Lorn asked. "I mean, I was sent to investigate the Night Watch, and they led me to HYDRA. If you'd had the same assignment, they'd have put us in touch with each other."

"I followed the trail." Draal told him. "I was asked to look into the Unity Movement. Almost as soon as I started, somebody took a shot at me. The shooter was a former Cerberus operative turned freelance assassin. She put me on to her contact, and his files led me to Zarin Arrax -a lystheni salarian operating out of Omega.

"Arrax had the gall to say he was glad I survived, then offered me a chance to join this HYDRA. The alternative being a bullet or two from his henchmen. I decided to take the third alternate, which left the goons dead and Arrax wounded. He swallowed a poison capsule before I could interrogate him, but he never had the chance to wipe his files.

"The files told me that the Unity Movement, in and of itself, is legitimate. Which is to say, most of the people involved believe that it's what is says it is, a movement for peace and unity among all species.

"But they also told me that the Movement has been infiltrated, at all levels, by agents of this HYDRA. I also found out that HYDRA originated, and has its' HQ , on Earth. So that's where I'm going, so I can get hold of a full list of HYDRA agents inside the Unity Movement."

"So," Lorn said, "while the Night Watch was just a front for HYDRA, the Unity Movement is something they've taken advantage of. Looks like some sort of pincer movement to me. Especially since HYDRA seems to be recruiting extremists across all races."

"You mean, use the separatist and supremacist gangs to cause trouble, then bring up the Unity Movement as the answer?" Mordin suggested. "You know, that might actually work!"

"You can always rely on a krogan to deconstruct a threat." Samara remarked. "And if Urdnot Mordin here is only half as good a soldier as he is a poet, you could not have a better companion on your mission, Lorn.

"For myself, I am puzzled. Cerberus I am familiar with – it was the Illusive Man who advised Shepard to recruit me for his mission against the Collectors, and I dealt with Cerberus operatives both before and during the Reaper War.

"Now according to the information I have gathered concerning HYDRA, it seems that it and Cerberus are one and the same organisation. But the Cerberus I knew was an avowedly human supremacist movement, whilst HYDRA recruits all races equally."

"I don't understand it all myself." Lorn allowed. "But from what I can gather, the Illusive Man changed the organisation to suit his personal ideology when he was in charge, as well as changing the name."

"Well, we will doubtless discover more when we reach Earth." Samara said.

Ivanova, Marcus and the team sat in the lounge of the _Imogene_, having a drink or three in memory of Nerab. Nobody was bitter – they were soldiers, after all, -but there seemed to be a sense of quiet triumph in the air. His team seemed oddly happy for Nerab. This puzzled Ivanova and Marcus, but only she had the nerve to ask about it.

Benezia replied with an odd mix of sadness and happiness. "Nerab was twenty-five last birthday. That's past middle age for a salarian. He'd been STG before joining the Warsworn, and he joined us because the STG were about to put him in a tech lab. With us, he got to stay in the field, even if it was as a Hireling.

"We made Pledgeshield around eighteen months ago, if we're lucky, we might make Oathblade in five or six years. But Nerab was starting to slow down, and he knew it. The next assessment, or the one after it, and he'd have been benched -reassigned to the labs. He didn't want that.

"I'm not saying he did it deliberately, it just turned out the way it did. But he wouldn't have been sorry. He loved being in the field."

"Funny how people forget about age when it comes to salarians." Larsus pointed out. "I mean, humans, turians, drell, quarians and so forth all live to about the same age. The asari and krogan, well everyone accepts that they live a long time; some people envy them, others say they're welcome to it. About the geth I don't know. Do geth get old, pal?"

This to Hawkeye, who replied. "We are a learning system. New data, new concepts, new responses are originated by programs and uploaded to the consensus. We are upgraded so do not become obsolete. Our hardware can be damaged or become obsolete, in which case we download to a newer platform and the old one is recycled."

"That means 'no'." Seera told everyone.

"Right." Larsus said. "But salarians, they've got forty years at most. They do everything fast, and they don't sleep a lot, but when you choose to work with members of a longer-lived species, things must seem to take ages!"

"I hadn't thought of that." Ivanova admitted. "I was busy thinking how bad it was that Nerab had died so young, but he wasn't actually that young!"

"So that's Earth." Draal remarked. "It looks a lot like Minbar, but greener."

"They say it was overcrowded and dirty, before the Reaper War." Mordin told him. "But the Reapers reduced most of the big megalopolises to rubble, as well as harvesting three-quarters of the population. The humans decided to limit their population afterwards, and to let a lot of the land go back to nature."

"That's true." Lorn said. "The old cities – London, Paris, New York and so on were restored, especially the ancient buildings and monuments, the Tower of London, the Louvre, the Empire State Building and others. But a lot of the planet has gone back to wilderness that the humans protect and manage. They even got the help of salarian geneticists to restore extinct and threatened plant and animal species."

"You've been here before?" Draal asked.

Lorn nodded. "I did military training here on an invitational programme, got to see the sights a bit."

"I have been here twice. The last time was after the War. The other is a very long tale." Samara revealed. "Earth is a place of importance, not only as the homeworld of humanity, but as the birthplace of heroes such as Commander Shepard, Admiral Hackett and Admiral Anderson, and as the scene of the defeat of the Reapers. I wished to visit the memorial to the fallen.

"It is strange, but impressive. The actual memorial is a simple rectangle of grey stone, mounted on three shallow steps in a square in London, with a facsimile of an empty tomb on top. There are two laurel wreaths sculpted on the ends, along with the dates of two wars, and the words "The Glorious Dead" are carved on each side. It is flanked on each side by flags – the flags of Earth, Thessia, Tuchanka, Palaven, Sur'kesh and Rannoch. The memorial dates from Earths' early Twentieth Century -two hundred years ago – and somehow escaped the ravages of the Reaper War. Ceremonies of remembrance are still held there each year, and veterans and the families of the fallen travel from across the Galaxy to attend. Days, perhaps weeks, of travel for a simple wreath-laying and march-past, yet it means so much that they come in their thousands."

"I would dearly like to see that." Draal admitted. "We minbari were ignored by the Reapers, but we -especially the Warrior Caste -are mindful of the costs others bore to allow us to enter a Galaxy at peace."

"Maybe later." Lorn said. "Right now, the tracer Hallinger planted on Schmidts' shuttle tells me that it's landed somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains in Eastern Europe. We've got clearance, so we'd better get down there."

"No rush." Mordin said. "I made a call while we were on our way. We've got some back-up coming."

Mordins' back-up proved to be three shuttles full of seasoned Warsworn mercenaries, led by a tall, well-built, dark-haired Truesworn who introduced himself as Cormac Cousland "Call me Mac." He had the polished affability of a gentleman and the hard-nosed practicality of a professional soldier.

"I did some research." He said. "This base has actually belonged to HYDRA for centuries. It was built in the 1930s by a man called Johann Schmidt, who called himself _Der Rote Schädel_ \- the Red Skull – for some reason. Apparently he pulled together the remnants of a number of old groups to form HYDRA, which eventually became a separate faction in the Second World War.

"This base was his main one, and he intended to launch a nuclear strike against most of the worlds' major cities from here. But before he could, the base was taken down by Special Forces led by a Captain Steve Rogers.

"Rogers is a bit of a legend, they called him Captain America and some people say he was given some kind of serum to enhance his physical abilities. They also say he turned up, not aged a day, in the later 20th Century and became a crime-fighter. Some people say that he never died, just kept changing identities, and that Commander Shepard was actually Steve Rogers."

"He was not." Samara said firmly. "I knew both of them. They were both exceptional men, and they did have much in common, but John Shepard was not Steve Rogers. About that I could not be mistaken."

"That was the long tale you mentioned before?" Mordin asked.

"It is, and someday, my young friend, I will relate it to you." Samara promised. "I can think of no-one better suited to retell it."

"Anyway," Cousland went on, "the base was abandoned until HYRDA reoccupied it under Baron von Strucker in the 1960s. Finally, an agency called SHIELD took it down in the 2000s, and the local government took it over. But they couldn't afford to maintain it, and Jack Harper, the Illusive Man, bought it off them in 2159 to use as a Cerberus base. When Cerberus disappeared after the Reaper War, this place was just left. It seems HYDRA have picked it up again.

"Now, it's built into and under a mountain. Deep scans tell us that it's less than a third occupied right now. There are several aircraft hangars built into the mountain with launch doors out the sides. Only one is being used, for HYDRA shuttles probably. That's our best way in, but it's covered by heavy AA guns. Our shuttles are stealthy, but not invisible, we 'd get cut to pieces before we could land.

"But if we can get a small team inside to an active terminal, a skilled hacker could deactivate the guns long enough for us to get in and start doing some damage."

"Do two Spectres, a Justicar and a krogan count as a small team?" Draal asked.

"More of a small army!" Cousland allowed. "Do you have the hacking skills?"

Lorn gave him a long look. "I'm a quarian." He said. "We learn hacking in High School."

"Fair enough." Cousland responded. "In that case, we have a way in for you. The original HYDRA people seemed a bit paranoid, and they had secret entrances and exits scattered all over this area. We've located one that's quite close to the occupied section. One of my Pledgeshields comes from this part of the world, he'll show you the way."

Pledgeshield Oleg Drakul was a dark, wiry, taciturn person who moved with the agility and balance of a mountain goat. He guided them along the mountain trails with gestures rather than words, but became quite loquacious when Draal commented on the structures on two nearby peaks.

"Old castles." He said. "The seats of the _boyars_, the nobles who ruled this land under the _Voivodes_ in the old time. That is Castle Ferenczy, that was blown up over two hundred years ago. Over there is Castle Dracula, the seat of the family to which my tribe, the Szgany Drakul, once held allegiance."

"That one almost looks inhabitable." Draal noted. "Think anyone lives there now?"

"Lives? No." Oleg made a peculiar sign with his right hand. "Inhabited? Perhaps. They say that one of the Dracula was _wamphyr_, and such do not die. I would _not_ spend a night in these mountains alone."

"_Wamphyr_?" Lorn asked.

"Vampire." Mordin told him. "Common belief in almost every human culture, a corpse that rises from its grave at night to suck the blood of the living."

"Fit neighbours for HYDRA, then." Draal commented.

"Please, let's go." Oleg said. "It does no good to talk about these things, especially in places like this!"

The door was an unobtrusive grey metal one, set in the shadow of a large boulder, just below the level where the land went from rough walking to actual climbing. The wheel that was supposed to open it had long since corroded into uselessness. Mordin took hold of the protruding edges where the seal had also corroded and, with a grunt, pulled the door off its hinges and set it aside.

"Quieter than blowing it." He remarked.

"Remind me never to irritate a krogan." Draal said to Lorn.

"Krogan are already irritated." Lorn replied. "They evolved that way."

"Tuchankas' no place for wimps." Mordin allowed. "Everything that lives there, even the plant life, is pissed off all the time!"

"I'll be no use to you in there." Oleg noted. "I'd better get back. Good luck!"

"How'd you afford Warsworn?" Lorn asked Mordin.

The krogan shrugged. "Royalties." He said. "I've done three plays and written four books, and for some reason they're all popular, not only on Tuchanka. I've got a volus financial advisor – Merek Von – who invests for me, and he's not only good, he's honest.

"Krogan don't need a lot of _things_. We've got used to getting by with almost nothing, so I've got more money than I know what to do with, even after the charitable stuff. So I figured I'd get us some extra help for this one."

"We're Spectres." Lorn reminded him. "We could've requisitioned Alliance troops."

"And been tied up in red tape for a week?" Mordin asked. "There isn't a war on now, Lorn, so you can't just pull in anything you need, even as a Spectre. Not to mention the political ramifications."

"Besides," Draal put in, "for all we know, HYDRA might have infiltrated the Alliance command structure. We could have walked into a trap."

They were following the Nav-point Mac Cousland had downloaded for them. After an hour or so – the base was clearly a large one -they turned a corner to see light ahead. They crept forward cautiously until the keen-eyed Samara, in the lead, signalled a halt.

"Monitoring station." She said softly. "It looks like there's a live terminal. Don't know if it's manned…yes, I see the silhouette of a man…"

"Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?" Murmured Lorn.

"What?" Mordin asked.

"Human folk song." Lorn said. "Never mind. How do we handle this?

"I've got it." Draal said.

He moved off, seeming to blend into the shadows. Shortly after, there was a brief scuffle and a choking sound.

"We're clear!" Draal called.

The room was not large, and had only the two entrances, with no doors. Mordin loitered by the doorway they had entered, while Samara took up post near the other. Lorn made his way to the console.

"Good," he noted, "that guy was logged in, saves me having to break his password. Now all I have to do is find the administrator access and tweak his permission level.

"Keelah! These people are sloppy! No, wait, not so much. They had to overwrite the Cerberus architecture, the Illusive Man must've taken his passwords with him. If I can log in as Cerberus, I can take the whole thing down. Spectre database has hundreds of Cerberus passwords Shepard downloaded from Kronos Station years ago. Just need to find the right one.

"OK, I'm in! Defence systems….gotcha, _bosh'tet_! Mac, get your men ready, system's going down in five. Not too much rush, I've locked them out, but better to hit before they notice! See you at the hangar.

"Right, let's get down there, people! With any luck, we'll be able to flank the defenders, keep them off the shuttles till the Warsworn disembark."

As it turned out, the landing was almost bloodless. The hangar bay was only occupied by a single squad of guards and a few techs working on the two HYDRA shuttles parked there. The Warsworn craft swept in, firing as they came and wrecked the parked shuttles, causing chaos in doing so, and landed.

Lorn and his squad kept the remaining guards busy while the shuttle doors opened and the Warsworn scrambled out and formed up under biotic shields. With the last guards down, Draal and Samara rounded up the techs and secured them in an empty storeroom.

Lorn went over to Truesworn Cousland.

"How come there aren't alarms blaring here?" Cousland wanted to know.

"I was able to shut everything down." Lorn explained. "There's no surveillance and no base-wide comms. They're deaf and blind. The troops still have helmet comms, but the central command frequencies are offline -they won't be able to coordinate. If we move fast, before the squads can join up, we can keep them off-balance."

"Right!" Cousland said. "The command centre is further in and about three levels up, but one of those is empty. My squad will come with you and your people." He turned to his troops.

"Bravo Squad, stay here and guard the shuttles. Nobody who isn't Warsworn enters or leaves!

"Charlie and Delta, move out and clear the place, you won't have much ground to cover.

"Alpha Squad, with me!"

It was not exactly a cake-walk. Crippled by a lack of central coordination, and unsure where the invaders were coming from and going to, the HYDRA troops were at a distinct disadvantage. But the squad commanders were smart enough to know that the main threat would be directed at the command centre, so many of them made their way to positions where they could defend it.

The HYDRA troops were courageous and disciplined veterans, mostly human but with a sprinkling of turians, asari and lystheni salarians. They had more soldiers than the Warsworn, but fewer biotics and combat engineers.

"And no krogan." As Mordin pointed out. "That's gonna cost them!"

It was also the case that the HYDRA armour and weapons were mostly old Cerberus stock, well-maintained but out of date, whilst the Warsworn equipment was state of the art. The squad made steady progress, but it was not easy and they took some casualties.

As a result, by the time they reached the big double doors that led to the command centre, there were no less than four HYDRA squads, well dug in, in front of them.

"We didn't bring any heavy weapons." Mac said. "It's going to take time to winkle them out, time for anyone in there to get clear."

"Maybe not." Lorn said. "I saw something a couple rooms back. Stay here and keep their heads down. Mordin, come with me!"

The room Lorn led Mordin to was large, with half-a-dozen bays along each wall. One of the bays was occupied by a massive shape.

"I thought so!" Lorn said. "Atlas mech! Cerberus used these a lot." He checked his omni-tool. "Powered-up and fully armed, but on standby. You need Cerberus protocols to activate it fully, which is why HYDRA couldn't deploy it. But I can!"

There was a humming noise, and then the transparent cab opened.

"Give me a boost, big guy." Lorn said. "These are meant for humans, not quarians, and I can't quite reach the step."

"You could if you weren't wounded." Mordin said. "Don't think I didn't notice, Lorn! Are you up for this?"

"Yeah, I took one in the leg." Lorn admitted. "It's in the muscle, I've stopped the bleeding and taken some antibiotics. I'm good for now, but I'll be better for not having to run for a bit!"

Mordin nodded and hoisted his quarian friend up to the cab, where Lorn settled in. "Mordin," he said, "this thing doesn't have rear-view mirrors…."

"I got your back." Mordin promised. "Always."

Lorn nodded and closed the cab, then checked the controls. He'd trained on the Alliance Ares heavy mech, of which the Atlas had been the forerunner, and the controls were pretty much the same, but this older mech was more ponderous and less responsive.

Still, it was productive of considerable panic among the HYDRA troopers when it lumbered into view. Lorn wasted no time in launching a rocket into the midst of them. Small arms fire can take down a mech, but it requires concentrated fire and a cool head, not to mention cover and distance. The HYDRA troops had none of these, and Lorn and the Warsworn took full advantage. The mechs' rapid-fire cannon shredded the defensive blockades and mobile cover-nodes HYDRA was relying on, and the Warsworn squad mopped the troops up. Finally, to save time, Lorn used the mechs' rocket launcher to demolish the doors.

The room beyond was circular, lined with consoles and operating stations. At most of these, HYDRA operatives were slumped, dead. A quick examination of the nearest told Draal that they had all taken suicide capsules as Arrax had.

In the centre of the room was a raised circular platform with a railing around it. In the centre of this platform were two figures. One, in uniform but not armour, was Hugo Schmidt, the other was the vorlon Ulkesh. The Warsworn surrounded the platform. With Mordins' help, Lorn dismounted from the mech, to be greeted by name.

"Lorn'Reegar vas Tirimon!" Schmidt said. "Magnificent! I know your reputation and record, but your hacking skills exceed my expectations! To shut my entire base down is no mean feat!"

"Not one to brag, Mr Schmidt, but it wasn't so very hard. A legacy from the Illusive Man. You should really have stripped out the Cerberus architecture and started from scratch." Lorn replied.

Schmidt spread his hands. "What can I say? A matter of time and cost. The Illusive Mans' betrayal left us with little of either. But don't let that belittle your own achievement, Major.

"But I must not neglect my other distinguished guests! Captain Draal, the first of your noble race to become a Spectre, you may now add my commendations to your growing list of triumphs. Justicar Samara, HYDRA is indeed honoured to have such a worthy antagonist. The death of your daughter was a regrettable necessity, all must learn that one cannot challenge HYDRA without consequence. Urdnot Mordin, that rarity, a man as skilled with the sword as with the pen, and another worthy adversary.

"Now had the Major not crippled the base, I would have been able to thank you all by burying you in its ruins. But the self-destruct was locked out with the rest, so all I can do is to bid you farewell and wish you an unsafe journey home!"

With that, the platform began to rise as the dome above opened. But quick as it was, Draal, Mordin and Samara were able to vault onto it. They emerged into the open air, on a plateau just below the peak of the mountain.

"A tenacious group indeed!" Schmidt said, drawing his pistol. But Mordin was already charging and the impact flung Schmidt away like a rag doll, to crash against the railing. Draal heard bones snapping, and was shocked when Schmidt tried to drag himself up. Mordin strode forward, raising his shotgun, but Schmidt had already triggered his omni-tool, and just as the krogan fired, the HYDRA leader vanished in a blaze of white light. Mordin swore, extensively and imaginatively.

Samara was speaking to the vorlon.

"I am not familiar with your species, but unless you are remarkably powerful, I advise you not to commence hostilities. None of us here are to be taken lightly."

"The Protheans chose well." Ulkesh said. "But they are dead. You are ours now. Do not forget."

Then a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see…something…a ship? A living creature? Swooping down, it hovered over the plateau. A beam of light came down from its' belly to engulf Ulkesh. When it blinked out, the vorlon was gone. The 'ship' that had taken it rose up and flew away, too fast for the eye to follow.

Lorn had had to spend a night in the sickbay of the Warsworn frigate _Hispaniola_ to get over the slight fever he'd developed. But by the morning, he was ready to compare notes with his teammates.

"I managed to upload some of the HYDRA database to this ship." He said. "But some of it will require specialist data mining and extraction."

Draal nodded. "I contacted Alliance Command, they've got people there now going through everything, but it's going to take months. But you did get lists of HYDRA agents embedded in the Unity Movement and BSec. We need to get the lists to the Council right away, but we can't transmit it, even by QEC, because we can't be sure it won't get into the wrong hands.

"We need to get it to the Council personally. We should be at Babylon Five first thing tomorrow, and I've arranged a meeting with Councillors Galina and Urdnot. I've let them think it's a routine report for now, so you won't be able to come with me, but I'd appreciate an escort to the Presidium!

"We'll be there." Lorn promised. "Samara?"

"This is now my mission as well." Samara said. "I will see it through."

"There's something else we know as well." Mordin said. "HYDRA has matter transport technology and at least one fully-cloaked ship. Schmidt wouldn't have got away otherwise."

"Do you think he survived?" Samara asked.

"Hard to tell." Mordin allowed. "He's a tough son of a varren. An unarmoured human usually won't survive a krogan charge, but he did. I'm not sure how much of my shot hit him before he disappeared, but there was blood where he'd been, so he probably took a few pellets at least. I'll believe he's dead when I see his body and head at least a metre apart!"

"I'm sorry, Leader," The salarian doctor was saying, "there's too much damage. Your spine was shattered, and the shotgun blast shredded too many organs. Your enhanced genetics have only staved off the inevitable, you are dying. We could try cybernetic reconstruction, but the likelihood of your surviving the procedures – and there would be many – is poor.

"We could try to resurrect you using the Project Lazarus data, but that is incomplete, and we would have to improvise. It took two years to bring Commander Shepard back, it might take us longer to revive you."

Schmidts' voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, but still understandable.

"Use.. the serum!" He ordered.

The salarian blinked. "We do not have the formula for the perfected serum, it was destroyed. We have reproduced the version your ancestor used, but you know the results were imperfect. Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Schmidt gasped. "And add eezo as I instructed."

"This is high risk." The salarian pointed out.

"Worth it!" Was the reply. "My life, my choice, your orders!"

"Understood, Leader. Hail HYDRA!"


	10. Chapter 10

**When the Shadows Fall**

**Chapter 10**

Ivanova should have reported back to Babylon Five, but she felt she owed it to Nerab to attend his memorial, especially since the other members of his squad had all pressed her to come. Besides, she didn't want to part company with Marcus quite so soon.

Ivanova had been placed in something like a theatre box, where she could see everything, but not too closely. At first she had thought this was an attempt to isolate her, but she was soon joined by a number of others. One of them, a grizzled human who introduced himself as Pietro, explained to her.

"These boxes are for the tech and support staff, as well as visitors. Only active, serving fighters stand on the floor at memorials. Not that we're not welcome, but there's not a lot of room down there, and most of us aren't trained to stand at attention for that long!"

Ivanova had been surprised at that, the Assembly Hall was very large. But now as she saw the close-packed ranks of fighters filling the room below her, she felt glad to be up here. The box she was in was half-way along a side wall, giving her a reasonable view of everything.

At one end of the hall was the Memorial Wall, a large screen on which the names of all those who had fallen in the short but eventful history of the Warsworn were displayed. At the base were several terminals where, Ivanova had been told, one could call up the record of any of the deceased for a more detailed account of their deeds.

The floor of the hall was filled with soldiers, from almost every race: humans, turians and asari predominated, but there were many krogan, more than a few quarians and drell, several geth and at least half-a-dozen hulking elcor. They stood ranked in order, Pledgeshields nearest the Memorial Wall, Oathblades next, then the Truesworn and finally the Firstsworn elite nearest the dais at the other end.

On the lowest step of the dais stood Nerabs' squad, along with Marcus, the mission commander. On the next were two figures. One was a tall, striking, dark-haired woman – Commander Lawson, the public face of the Warsworn. The other was the unmistakable figure of Javik, the Last Prothean, known here as the Ancient of War. On the top step, behind a simple lectern, was the legendary figure of the Grey Warden, founder and leader of the Warsworn. Ivanova noted the old-style grey N7 armour he wore, and his extensive cybernetics. Clearly he had been terribly injured in the past, but he held himself firmly, with the simple dignity of a soldier.

There was no drawn out ceremonial. Commander Lawson stepped forward and read the citation, a simple, even stark, account of the events that had led to Nerabs' death. When she had finished, Javik ordered:

"Warsworn, 'ten-shun! About face!"

The entire audience turned about as one to face the Memorial Wall. Javik spoke again.

"The name of Nerab Solus will now be added to the Roll of the Fallen. In view of his sacrifice and devotion, he is accorded the posthumous rank of Truesworn, and will appear on the Wall under that rank.

"Sworn to War!"

"Sworn to War!" The troops responded, as the centre of the Wall cleared to show Nerabs' name, dates and rank in letters everyone in the Hall could read.

Javik ordered the about face again, then the Commander spoke.

"The mission on which Truesworn Solus died was one of major importance. It also turned out to be far more dangerous than we had anticipated. Nevertheless, its' objectives were achieved.

"In view of this, commendations have been added to the records of all Warsworn participants.

"Furthermore, Oathblade Marcus Cole is now promoted to the rank of Truesworn. Pledgeshields Benezia T'soni, Regant Drokk, Larsus and Seera Remarkan and Hawkeye are now promoted to the rank of Oathblade.

"Well done, all of you!

"Also, messages have been sent to the Kha'ri of Narn, commending the courage and devotion to duty of Professor Na'Toth, and to the Galactic Council commending the actions of the Spectre Commander Susan Ivanova, who assisted in this mission.

"The body of Captain Eshra, of the Warsworn frigate _Imogene_, was committed to space as per her wishes. She has been memorialised on the Wall of Remembrance on that vessel, as is customary."

As the Commander fell silent, the Grey Warden stepped forward to the lectern and placed his hands on it.

"At ease." He said, and a wave of relaxation spread though the hall. The Warden scanned his people for a moment, then spoke again. "It's hard losing a comrade. I've lost many, young soldiers with their whole career in front of them, veterans in their last fight, even dying men with nothing to lose, making one last choice. You don't forget, and the hurt never really goes. You always wonder if there was something you could have done differently that would've saved them.

"But we are who we are, soldiers, and soldiers die. Whether it's bravely and worthily, or stupidly and wastefully, it goes with the territory. At least Nerab died well, protecting his team, a soldier can't ask for more."

Ivanova realised she had been listening with rapt attention, as had everyone in the Hall. There'd been no shuffling or coughing, even among the support staff in the viewing boxes. The charisma of the damaged man in the old grey armour was astonishing. _His words go straight to your heart_, she realised, _because they come straight from his_!

"But now, we face another threat." The Warden went on. "Despite the destruction of Z'ha'doum, the Shadows are not completely destroyed. The being calling itself 'Q' warned us that there are others, worse than the Shadows, out there.

"The Ancient of War advises me that the races known as the First Ones were legends among his people, the protheans, and the insunannon before them. They were said to be ancient, powerful and feared even by the Reapers.

"Now we know those legends to be true, and for whatever reason, the First Ones have chosen to act against us. Races that were feared by the Reapers will not be easy to face, but we have to try, or everything we are will be lost.

"This was one of the reasons I created this order. In case the Reapers returned, or in case we faced something worse. That threat is at our borders now, and we have to prepare to face it.

"We're about to go through Hell, but this what you've trained and worked for. Once again, we fight or we die!

"Sworn to War!"

Draals' report had caused a flurry of discreet activity. His companions had been brought in, and several people had been summoned discreetly.

"Well, Jeff?" Ashiara asked.

"This confirms what Oraka told me." Colonel Sinclair confirmed. "Tulina is in the clear, and so are a lot of her staff. But there are people on this list who are in key positions in the Unity Movement and the Templars. Fortunately, Oraka and I have established our own network, people we can trust. Give the word, and we'll take them down!"

"Need any back-up?" Grunt asked.

Sinclair shook his head. "It's better if the Unity Movement cleans its own house, and is seen to do so."

"To suppress the Movement itself would be undemocratic." Ashiara told them. "Tulina, though not overly popular, is still a Matriarch, and she is sincere in her beliefs. For the Council, or even the other Matriarchs, to intervene and stop her would be against all asari principle.

"The Movements' ideals, though pushed to an extreme, are the same ones of cooperation and sharing between the various races that I think we all support."

"Besides, if young Mordin is right," Grunt pointed out, "then if we take out the HYDRA-backed separatists, the Unity Movement will slow down anyway. It's been the fear of the separatists that's caused a lot of people to join the other side."

"Thanks Uncle Grunt." Mordin replied.

"Anytime." Grunt told him. "Nice to see you acting like a krogan for a change! How's he been doing, Major?"

"Kicking ass and taking names!" Lorn responded fervently, making Grunt chuckle.

"The other Councillors have been given lists of HYDRA operatives within their governments." Ashiara said. "As for the separatist groups, a lot of them have been thrown into confusion.

"We have reports from the Warsworn that the home planet of a hostile race known as the Shadows has been destroyed, and it seems that some of these groups answered to these Shadows. With their mentors gone, they've collapsed into infighting.

"Those that remain organised are the HYDRA-backed ones, and the Council has assigned Spectres to deal with them, along with Special Forces from various Council races.

"That only leaves their agents here on Babylon Five and in BSec. Commander Garibaldi?"

"I've got my best people on it as we speak." Garibaldi told her. "We can move whenever you're ready."

"Then let's hit 'em!" Grunt said. "You and Sinclair, both at once. A clean, surgical strike to get it over with."

"Sounds good." Sinclair agreed.

Ambassador Delenn had been more than cooperative. No, Kosh was not part of her staff in any official capacity. Yes, it was classed as a minbari citizen and therefore under Council jurisdiction. No, it did not have diplomatic immunity. No, there would be no need to have a minbari representative present during questioning, but she would like a transcript afterward.

The interrogation room had had to be specially fitted. Kosh flatly refused to remove its Encounter Suit or to have it searched. Scans revealed nothing untoward, but it was thought proper to confine the vorlon within a small but potent shield similar to those used to neutralise Reaper and Leviathan artefacts.

Senior Agent Gibbs watched on the monitor. The waiting game wasn't going to work on this one. A turian, human or krogan would be getting twitchy by now – a salarian would be climbing the walls. But this one was more like an asari or an elcor, who could wait calmly forever. He and Antoninus went in.

"Kosh, the reason we've asked you here," Antoninus began, "is that we have reliable reports that a vorlon was seen in association with the leader of a subversive organisation called HYDRA.

"Can you tell us anything about this?"

"Are your reports reliable?" Kosh asked. "Perception is a barrier to truth, when it is limited."

"Well the word of three Council Spectres and an asari Justicar is reliable enough for me!" Gibbs said flatly.

"This vorlon isn't known on Minbar." Antoninus pursued. "Yet your people claim to be the last of your race. Are you sure others didn't survive? A group you don't know about?"

"All of us are known." Kosh replied.

"But nobody on Minbar knows this one." Antoninus insisted. "Its name is Ulkesh. Is it known to you?"

"Known to us. All of us are known." Was the answer.

"So why is Ulkesh working with terrorists?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"We each have our task." Kosh told him.

"So what's yours?" Gibbs pounced.

"To watch, to learn, to teach, to guide." Kosh answered.

"And what's Ulkeshs' task?" Antoninus asked.

"His." Kosh said simply.

"So you don't know?" Antoninus enquired.

"Yes." Kosh allowed. "But it is not mine to speak of."

"If his faction is opposed to yours, it would help us both if you tell us." Antoninus pointed out.

"There are no factions. No opposition." Kosh answered.

"So you support HYDRAs aims?" Gibbs demanded.

"No, they support ours. As does the Unity Movement. You must choose between them." Kosh explained.

"You're contradicting yourself!" Gibbs snapped.

"No." Kosh told him. "It is you who are blind. There are no sides, only facets."

"You're lying." Gibbs told it. "You're lying and twisting words. So what's going to happen is that you'll be kept under house arrest in an apartment we've fitted out for you. You'll get everything you need, but you will not be allowed to leave, or have contact with anyone but BSec officers.

"You're going to have a lot of time to think. So if I were you I'd think about helping us out or at least telling the truth!"

"I do not lie." Kosh said. "But I may not tell all the truth. You do not need to know the truth. Confine me if you must. It is already too late."

"What do you mean, too late?" Gibbs snapped.

"The avalanche has already started." Kosh replied. "It is too late for the pebbles to vote."

The minbari light cruiser _Sundancer_ came through the Mass Relay combat-ready. The distress call from a remote salarian colony had been nothing short of desperate. Now Captain Teelan saw why.

"Valenn!" She swore. "This is a full-on invasion!"

"Captain, there is a turian frigate in the system, hailing us!"

"Patch them through."

"_Sundancer_, this is Commander Regius of turian frigate _Fireblaze_. Our opponents are the race called Shadows. If you have any telepaths aboard, please warn them!

"This is not, repeat not, an invasion. The Shadows have already completely destroyed one inhabited planet in the system and are now moving on the last one.

"Captain, there are a Hell of a lot of salarian refugees in system, heading for the Mass Relay. So far, there has been no organised pursuit, but if they come near the shadow ships, they will be fired on. We're trying to round them up and get them on a safe route before the enemy decides to come after them. Can you assist?"

"One cruiser won't make a dent in a fleet that size!" Teelans' XO advised. She nodded.

"_Fireblaze_, continue what you're doing. We'll hold position near the Relay to make sure they get there safe. We should be good until or unless their capital ships notice us. Let's hope we can get the refugees out before that happens!"

She was sitting on her own in a corner of the control room, staring at the watch. She knew it was time, and that she would see him again soon. She wondered if he'd remember her – he'd only heard her voice before.

Graham came over. "You OK, Doc?" He asked.

She sighed. "Sit down a minute." She invited. This was new for her, the way she reacted to the people around her. Before, as a man, she'd put barriers up, to protect herself and them. The results hadn't always been good. But now, she was less afraid to share, to let people in. It wasn't just about being a woman now, though the different perspective helped, it was a hard lesson it had taken Rose Tyler, Amy Pond, Clara Oswald and River Song to teach her. People deserve better than to be shut out.

"We have to go somewhere soon, Graham." She said. "There's things we need to do. It's what we call a fixed point in Time. We have to be there and certain things have to happen."

"Is it going to be dangerous?" He asked.

"No more than usual." She told him.

"I'll make up some sandwiches." He said. "We tend to miss meals on these outings of yours!"

She laughed. Graham was, of course, infinitely younger than her, but he looked as if he could be her farther, or even grandfather. It made it easier to confide in him, and she loved the way he tried to look after everyone – including her.

"This is the thing, Graham." She went on. "The big things are meant to happen, and they will happen, we can't stop them. But the little things, what happens to individual people, they're almost never fixed.

"Now this watch, it doesn't belong to me. It belongs to someone we're going to meet there. A famous man, a hero, but I don't know him. I don't know if he's a good man or a bad one. Now he could be killed or badly hurt at some point. This watch could save his life, but it'll also make him very powerful, very dangerous.

"So I have to decide whether or not to give it to him, and I need you for that. You know people, Graham. I'm not really human, but you are, and you've seen a lot in your life. I'm going to trust you to tell me, if the time comes, whether or not to give him this watch.

"I'm not going to tell you who he is, because I don't want you to start out with my preconceptions. You'll know when the time comes."

"OK, Doc." Graham said. "I'll do my best."

The asari Third Fleet and the turian Second limped into the Aralakh system escorting a hundred or so krogan transports, and made for Tuchanka. Matriarch Kala and Admiral Atexis made contact with Command and landed by shuttle in the Kelphic Valley. Here they were driven by aircar through the bustling streets of New Keerag City, the krogan capital, a city less than seventy years old and still under construction.

"When I was last here," Atexis told his asari colleague, "I was a young pilot in Wing Artimec. We were assigned to provide air cover for an attack on the Reaper destroyer that was guarding the Shroud and poisoning the atmosphere."

"I've heard of that." Kala replied. "That was the day the genophage was cured."

"That's right, and I'm still proud to have been a part of it." Atexis declared. "A thousand years of punishment, or revenge if you like, was far too long.

"We were locked in on our first attack when Commander Shepard told us the route the krogan ground forces were coming by was blocked. We lost a third of our fighters before we could pull out. We stayed in a holding pattern, waiting for news. Then we saw the Reaper attacking something on the ground, so we went in to give it something else to shoot at.

"We found out later that what the Reaper was shooting at was Shepards' party, moving into the temple ruins to activate the Maw Hammers there."

"They summoned Kalross, the Mother of all Thresher Maws." Kala said.

"A fight of legend against legend." Atexis said. "The Reaper fought like Hell, but Kalross just wrapped herself around it and dragged it underground. I still dream about it sometimes. And you know, they say Kalross has been seen since, that she's still alive!

"And of course, Mordin Solus made it into the Shroud and spread the cure over Tuchanka before the lab he was in blew up.

"I never thought we'd face anything worse than the Reapers, but now…!"

They were ushered into a small, secure, conference room, to be met by no less than Wrex and Bakara, joint Chiefs of Clan Urdnot and _de facto_ heads of the krogan government.

Wrex wasted no time on pleasantries. "You've both reported to your governments?" He asked.

They nodded.

"Good!" Wrex said. "Now, thanks for hauling our people out of there. I'll thank you because nobody else will. Krogan hate running away, and they won't want to remember this.

"So, what happened?"

"We were on a joint exercise." Kala said. "Our Comms people picked up some urgent chatter from a nearby system. A krogan colony was under massive attack, so we went to see if we could help. There had been no distress signal, if our Comms officers hadn't been quick on the uptake….."

"Fools!" Bakara said angrily. "This is what comes of only putting men in charge of the military. I've told you, Wrex, we need women there, even if only as advisors!"

"You're preaching to the choir, here, hon." Wrex replied. "But the clans are going to take a lot of persuasion. We've spent a thousand years keeping our women out of harms' way -hard habit to break when most of us still remember why!

"Sorry, Matriarch, carry on."

"Right." Kala said. "We had to jump in to a nearby system that has a Relay, then go hell for leather to the one where the attack was going on. We got there and found one old cruiser – turian-built but krogan registered – and a satellite defence network trying to hold off a massive fleet."

"What kind of fleet, whose?" Wrex wanted to know.

"No idea." Atexis said. "They had every kind of ship from combat corvettes to dreadnoughts. But they weren't any configuration we have on record. They looked -according to our scanners, they were - organic in construction, living creatures. But they were well-shielded and had powerful weapons -particle beams, I think.

"The krogan commander was frothing and foaming about cowards who wouldn't send in ground troops and how was he supposed to fight them. Then he grunted and went quiet, and we were talking to a woman. She was the female head of the colony, and she agreed with us that they had to evacuate, fast.

"It was a close-run thing. The cruiser had already gone down, but the network was holding up pretty well. We hit the enemy fleet from the rear – I don't think they'd seen us – and were trying to keep them busy. Those ships are dangerous, but once you strip their shields, the hulls are very vulnerable.

"But we took a beating, I can't deny it."

"Then the big ship came." Kala said. "When I say big, it was the size of a small moon! It was slow, ponderous, and all the other ships crowded round it to protect it. It just came over the planet and fired a massive beam that started some kind of chain reaction. The whole planet just tore itself apart!

"By that time, all the population that could had got off-planet, so we had a fleet of transports to take care of. That was when they came for us, and that was when we had the first communication from them. It came through the QEC. Watch!"

She activated her omni-tool and projected a full-sized holo recording. The image was of an Encounter-Suited Vorlon. There was no exchange, just a message:

_The krogan and turians are to be removed. Your people will be spared to serve. You should leave now. We do not wish to fight you._

That was all.

"They seem to like you asari." Bakara remarked.

"The feeling isn't mutual." Kala said flatly. "Needless to say, we weren't going anywhere. We had to escort that civilian fleet out of the system and back to the Mass Relay, and the vorlons were after us every inch of the way."

"It was tough, real tough." Atexis reported. "We lost a lot of ships and too many people. But, spirits be praised, we didn't lose any civilians. The vorlons didn't follow us through the Relay, we don't know why not."

"Probably couldn't tell where you'd gone." Wrex said. "For all they knew, they could have arrived in the middle of a full Council fleet!

"Well, we 've learned two things. One, either the minbari lied to us about the vorlons, or the vorlons have been lying to the minbari about themselves. I figure the latter, the minbari seem decent people.

"Second, we need a fleet! The krogan specialise in ground combat nowadays, but these vorlons don't seem to use ground troops, so apart from fixed planetary defences, we've no way to get at them!"

"An error of judgement on my part." Bakara admitted. "I persuaded our people to concentrate on the rebuilding of Tuchanka and our colony worlds. We are building warships, but not as a priority, and progress is slow."

"Hmm." Atexis said. "I don't know of a navy in the Galaxy that doesn't have at least a few mothballed ships. They'll be old, but still serviceable. I'm sure Palaven Command would be willing to let you have what we've got, and engineers to refit them."

"The same goes for asari High Command." Kala promised.

"That would help." Wrex allowed. "As for refits, you can hang on to your people. I'll get in touch with Tali. Quarian and geth engineers could refit an entire fleet faster than the rest of us put together. I might even ask the Dalatrass if the salarians have any new tech they could spare!"

"I'm sure they will." Atexis told him. "There is a war on!"

"I suppose there is." Bakara said sadly.

Councillor Garrus Vakarian stood looking at the holo-portrait of Shepard that hung above his old Widow sniper rifle, over the hearth of his living room. It wasn't the official portrait, but rather an enlargement and enhancement of an omni-tool snap Garrus himself had taken the day he and Shepard had had a shooting contest at the very top of the Presidium in the old Citadel. Shepard was holding his rifle and grinning, but the tiredness around his eyes was apparent. They had been in the middle of the Reaper War and had managed to steal a precious hour of leisure out of that continuing nightmare.

"You once told me that there was no Shepard without Vakarian." Garrus said to the portrait. "But what does Vakarian do without Shepard?

"Spirits know I've done my best all these years, but now we're up to our necks in another Galactic war, and you're not here to have my back. Or are you? If you're up there somewhere, put in a good word for us. They'll listen to you. People always listened to you."

Then Tali came up beside him and slipped her arm around his waist.

"So you come and talk to him as well, when you're troubled?" She asked.

He dropped his arm over her shoulders. "I do." He admitted. "Not that I tell him anything you don't know. But I didn't know you did the same?"

"Of course I do." She replied. "He was like a brother to both of us.

"Do you realise that we were the only ones who were with him through everything? From that first day on the Citadel when you saved my ass from the Shadow Brokers' goons, through that whole suicide mission through the Omega Relay, right down to the Battle of London. Even Kaidan and Liara didn't go through the Omega Relay with us!"

"I guess you're right." Garrus allowed. "Hadn't though of that before. But this might be worse than all of that. We've had a lot of practice, and we've still got a lot of good people to call on, but we could sure use him!"

"We could." Tali agreed. "We could use Ashley and Mordin and Thane and Zaeed and even Legion as well. But they're all gone, so we do our best as we are.

"But there is one thing I want to ask, now. It didn't seem important before, there was plenty of time. But now we're in harms' way again, and I don't want any regrets if the worst happens.

"Garrus Vakarian, will you marry me?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" Garrus replied.

THE END

The story will conclude in

_The Last Harvest_


End file.
